A Shattered Reflection
by ozhawk
Summary: Sequel to Through A Glass Darkly, featuring Bucky Barnes as the main protagonist. Rated T for now but may change in later chapters.
1. Introduction

**A Shattered Reflection - Introduction**

**If you didn't read my story Through A Glass Darkly – you might want to go back and check it out, as this has been written as a sequel in the same AU. If you don't want to, I've tried to write in a plot summary below, but since TAGD was over 100,000 words, I WILL have missed out stuff and you WILL get confused later.**

**Summary of the plot up to this point:**

In _Through A Glass Darkly_, Clint Barton (aka Hawkeye) fell in love with a girl named Jen who he met after crashing through the window near the end of The Avengers movie. A short, Australian tough cookie with degrees in materials science and structural engineering, she takes no shit from anyone, especially not Hawkeye.

A couple of rounds of extremely good sex later, Clint realises something is wrong with him. He has a horrible suspicion that when Loki said he "expanded his mind" he meant it literally.

Jane Foster and Tony Stark build a communications machine to get a message through to Asgard, and Thor and Loki turn up a few days later, but not before Clint gets extremely sick due to withdrawal from contact with Jen.

Loki tells Clint that he'd actually done him a favour, laying a traditional Asgardian enchantment on him that would increase his strength, intelligence and lifespan, and also passing the gifts onto his chosen mate. Said partner would then become his soulmate, reborn at his side for all time. But there's a time limit and once the transformation has begun, it has to be completed or they will both become sick.

Jen and Clint accept this and admit they love each other already, but Loki, jealous and reminded by Jen of Queen Guinevere, who he loved long ago before she married King Arthur, tried to separate them by tricking Jen into sleeping with him, wearing an illusion of Clint, before the enchantment bonding Clint and Jen together was complete. Jen twigged to Loki's deception and shot him (non-fatally) with one of Clint's guns.

Jen's concerned parents turn up at almost the same time as Queen Frigga and there is a confrontation with Loki where Loki realises that Jen's mother is Guinevere reborn. Since he'd sworn an oath on his life to protect her and her descendants, he's forsworn and his life is forfeit. Jen and her mother refuse to let him kill himself and instead force him to swear a new oath to join the Avengers as one of Earth's defenders. (One of my favourite lines in the story is when Natasha tells Loki he can't pay a debt of honour with his death, only with his life.)

At the end of Through A Glass Darkly, Clint and Jen get married and take off on a long honeymoon with no fixed destination. (There is an extended wedding scene one-shot called _**Into The Light**_). Their pilot to their first stop is Melinda May (from Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.), accompanied by Phil Coulson. Fury had already told Clint that Coulson lived, to try and reduce his guilt after the Battle Of New York, though the other Avengers don't know. May is Clint's former partner; she was his training officer and worked with him before retiring from fieldwork after the Bahrain Incident. Clint gave her the nickname 'The Cavalry' and is the only person who can use it without incurring violence.

Epilogue 1 of _Through A Glass Darkly_ is also the Prologue to this story and is reproduced in the next post.

**Universe Variations**

There are minor variations to the plots of Thor 2, CA:TWS and Iron Man 3 which I will quickly cover here.

**Thor 2 Variations**

The events of Thor 2 occur two months after Clint and Jen get married.

Thor and Jane already got back together, so the scene where she is angry at him for disappearing doesn't occur.

Jen's older brother Jacques, a former Australian SAS operative, is Darcy's boyfriend and Jane's 'bodyguard' when Thor isn't around. Jacques breaks his leg early on in the events of the movie and is pissed as hell when Darcy's intern Ian makes a move on his girl (check out the short _**Finders Ain't Keepers, Mate**_ to see what happens next).

Jane has already met Loki. She doesn't trust or like him though, because she and Jen had become friends. She still slaps him.

For those of you who wonder how Loki could behave as he did in Thor 2 because of the oath Jen made him swear: Jen made a mistake. She made him swear to protect Earth. Not Asgard. Oops.

While Loki is impersonating Odin at the end of the movie, we find out that he is doing it for altruistic reasons. Odin has fallen into the Odinsleep and Loki knows that Thor doesn't want the throne, he just wants to be with Jane. There's a really good one-shot called _**Glass Houses**_ written by _**Eternal Love Song**_ which features an interesting scene between Odin and Loki which sets this up rather well.

Grieving for his mother, Frigga, Loki tells Heimdall, Sif and the Warriors Three that he will assume the regency, pretending to be Odin, so that Thor can go freely. He asks the five of them to help him, to keep his secret until Odin wakes, and to be his hands and eyes because he can't do everything that Odin could do, especially with Frigga gone, but he reckons he can fool the rest of the Asgardians _because_ Frigga is gone and Odin can semi-sequester himself in grief. This also satisfies the punishment Jen laid on him (read Chapter 52 and Loki's following Interlude in TAGD if you want to know more about this). This scene is covered in the short _**Trusting The Trickster**_ (click on my profile to find and read it).

Consequently, when Sif turns up in _Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D_. hunting Lorelei, it's on Loki's orders, because he's sworn to protect Earth from outside threats, but he's promised to stay away for a year unless specifically summoned by the Avengers, who all think he's dead. There is a scene set on Asgard around this event called _**The Final Proof**_.

**Iron Man 3 variations**

The events of IM3 take place a little before CA:TWS, though after Thor 2.

Pepper and Tony are planning their wedding, though she is frustrated by his 'suit problem'.

Tony is recovering from the open-heart surgery alluded to at the end of IM3 when the events of CA:TWS take place. This explains why he isn't available to assist Steve and Natasha.

Pepper's Extremis effects have been mitigated before Tony goes under the knife. This isn't to the best of my knowledge specifically stated in IM3 but I just want to make it clear that is the order of things in my AU. I don't think Tony would have risked the surgery unless he'd made sure Pepper was safe anyway.

**CA: TWS variations**

Steve and Natasha are a couple. Natasha, however, still keeps her secrets. They have a discussion off-camera during the movie about her not sharing crucial information with him. Read the short _**Well, This Is Embarrassing**_ for this scene and the aftermath!

Fury and Maria Hill are also a couple, but it's a secret from everyone except members of the Avengers, because Fury doesn't want to risk Maria's safety. There is a short I've called _**I Can't Do This Without You**_ where first of all Fury convinces Maria to help him pretend to die, and then she thinks he might actually have died.

The post-credits scene where Bucky goes to the Howling Commandos exhibit hasn't occurred (yet).

_A Shattered Reflection_ opens five days after the climactic battle of Captain America: The Winter Soldier, and five months after Clint and Jen got married on the rooftop of Avengers Tower. It is intended to be Bucky's story, but there's still plenty of Clint and Jen in it for those of you who've fallen a bit in love with them ;)

**Please note. This story is intended to have (mostly) longer chapters than **_**Through A Glass Darkly**_**, and consequently, I won't be posting daily. I'll try and put on the bottom of each post when I intend to put the next chapter up.**

**To find any or all of the stories listed above (none of them are critical to the plot, except in my own head) click on my profile or search for Into The Light: they are posted as continuing chapters to that story. And it's M rated for smut so remember to check your filters if you can't find it!**


	2. Prologue

**Prologue**

Jen sighed, pressing a hand against her stomach as she watched Clint expertly pilot their boat into the small harbour. He leapt agilely to the dock and secured the catamaran swiftly before hopping back up and leaning over her.

"You sure you're all right? I thought you'd got over the seasickness by now."

"I'll be fine now we're out of the chop." Jen smiled up at him, reaching up to touch his cheek. He looked relaxed, tanned and fitter than ever; the hard lines that had marked his face since the Battle of New York finally gone. They'd spend the last few months wandering wherever their fancy took them; from Moloka'i they'd gone to Japan, then Thailand, Cambodia, India; a flight to London to check in with Jacques when he broke his leg trying to help Darcy and Jane when some bizarre Asgardian stuff went down; then some travelling in Europe. Clint had almost emptied his bag of paperwork for Jen, teaching her as they went where his safehouses and safety-deposit boxes were, how to access them, what to do if she ever couldn't get to him.

And then a month ago Jen had decided she wanted to go home to Australia. She wasn't yet quite ready to tell Clint that she thought she might be pregnant, because she suspected when she did that he'd lose it and insist on taking her back to the States to be safe, and she wasn't ready to let go of having this time alone with him yet.

_Soon_, Jen promised herself, watching him as he gathered his wallet and jumped over the side of the boat again, heading first to the harbourmaster's office and then to go stock up on some groceries. They'd spent the last two weeks sailing around the Great Barrier Reef and the Whitsunday Islands, and she was almost ready to share him with the rest of the world again. Once they were back on dry land she would no longer have the excuse of intermittent seasickness to explain her nausea, plus she'd started to notice changes in her body that would become obvious to him sooner rather than later.

Jen sighed and leaned back in her deckchair. Their six months was almost up, anyway. Time to go home and face reality. They'd been out of contact with the outside world entirely for the last week and she really should fire up a laptop, now that she'd have cellular reception, and check in with her folks, and with Natasha. In a little while. She closed her eyes. Just a few more minutes soaking up this lovely sun, letting the nausea subside…

A cloud shaded the sun, and she opened her eyes irritably. But it wasn't a cloud.

Clint returned to the yacht, cursing himself for having taken so long. But he'd spotted something on the cover of a newspaper that just shouldn't have been there, and spent far too long gaping at the headlines in shock. _HYDRA?_ Seriously? And S.H.I.E.L.D. – what the _fuck_ had Tasha _done_? He'd grabbed all the international newspapers in the small kiosk and scanned them quickly. There were blurry photos of the Winter Soldier fighting with Cap, a sidebar article saying that Nick Fury was dead – Fury, _dead_? Impossible! He cursed himself for not taking his phone from the boat. Natasha must have been trying frantically to get in touch. On the other hand – Jen's necklace hadn't reacted, so maybe she hadn't?

Clint ran all the way back to the marina, cursing himself again for having gotten so lax. He was wearing denim shorts and deck shoes and he wasn't even armed! Leaping onto the boat, he called Jen's name. Her chair was empty, maybe she was inside. He ducked down into the cabin, checked the side of the hull with their bed. No Jen.

She wasn't on the boat, he concluded a moment later. _Don't panic, don't panic_. He went back up on deck, looking around carefully, and his eye was caught by a flash of glass. His Starkphone, lying on the chair Jen had been resting on. He stooped to pick it up, and as he did so the screen came on.

All the breath left Clint's body as though he'd been sucker-punched. He hit his knees on the rough wooden deck, not noticing the pain, staring at the picture on the phone he held in suddenly trembling fingers.

There were three people in the bright, high-definition image. Jen was one of them, bound, gagged, clearly unconscious, a bruise forming on the side of her head as it lolled back over the arm of the man carrying her. The metal arm of the Winter Soldier.

_That_ would have been bad enough, his Jen in the hands of that _thing_. Clint had heard all too many horror stories of the Winter Soldier, most of them from Natasha, and because they were from Natasha he knew they were the truth, not myths or exaggerations, because the Winter Soldier was the one who had trained Natasha in the most brutal of her skills. But it was the third person on the screen his eyes were drawn to with horrified disbelief. Because the third person was _dead_. Had been dead for fifteen years. Clint had killed him.

His brother Barney smirked back at him from the photograph, one hand knotted into Jen's hair as he held her face up towards the camera.

This was _not possible_. He could not be kneeling on this boat, under a sunny Australian sky, staring at the image of his beloved wife helpless in the hands of a monster and his demon of a brother. For several seconds Clint's brain just froze up completely. And then the picture on the screen flashed off and a number appeared in its place.

_5._

The number flashed once, and then changed.

_4._

"Oh, fuck!"

_3._

Clint dropped the phone and lunged to his feet.

_2._

He didn't look back. Just dived over the open-water side of the boat, taking a deep breath as he went.

_1._

_**BOOM.**_


	3. Chapter 1 - Clean Getaway

**Chapter One – Clean Getaway**

The explosion sent the remains of the old catamaran rocketing twenty feet up into the sky. The resultant shockwave blasted Clint away fast, and he swam swiftly under the neighbouring floating dock, then kept going, diving under several boat hulls before risking coming up for a breath. He could already hear shouts and the wail of sirens. He trod water for a moment, hidden between a moored boat and a dock, risking lifting his head to look. Damn, that explosion had done a job on the boat. Nothing left but a bit of floating wreckage, still burning.

Had anyone seen him go over the side of the boat? Even more importantly, had anyone seen Jen get taken? Where had the Soldier and Barney taken her _to_? Clint knew he couldn't afford to get mixed up with the authorities just now. They'd pen him up and ask him interminable questions while Jen's trail went cold. He needed help, and he was half a world away from those who might be able to assist him. Even Jen's parents were away, in England right now visiting Jacques and Darcy. All his equipment had gone down with the boat. His nearest safety-deposit box was in Brisbane, which was still, he thought, about seven hundred miles south of here. Damn ridiculously large, sparsely populated country! There were no _cities_ up here in coastal central Queensland, just small towns, mostly tourism-based.

Clint took a deep breath, caught hold of the edge of the dock with his hands and tried to erase his fear for Jen from his mind. _Focus, Barton. List your assets_.

A pair of shorts. He'd lost his deck shoes in the dive over the side. Fine, he'd need clothes.

His belt, fortunately his special belt, which had a throwing star and a few drug-tipped darts in the buckle. Hopefully they'd stayed dry during his involuntary dip.

Wallet. Still in his shorts pocket. Okay, time to get somewhere safe so he could investigate that. He wasn't sure what was in it besides a bit of local currency.

Twenty minutes later, Clint slipped quietly aboard a boat moored outside the outer wall of the harbour. There were quite a few here, out where they didn't have to pay docking fees. 'Water rats' lived aboard several of them, mostly solitary men who didn't like much company. The man who lived on this one had taken off in a small dinghy towards the main dock a few minutes ago, probably heading ashore for supplies. Clint reckoned he'd have at least an hour before the man returned.

The first thing Clint did, once he'd slipped into the cabin and found a towel to dry off, was check his wallet. Good; more money than he'd thought, a couple of thousand Australian dollars, and the bills were plastic so completely undamaged. A StarkCorp credit card; brilliant. He'd forgotten Tony pressing that on him 'in case of emergencies' before they left. That meant he could access money not in his own name or any of his aliases. ID and cards in his own name: useless, he didn't dare use that, especially not until he knew what the hell was going on with S.H.I.E.L.D. And a business card, wet, but the numbers on it were still readable. Clint smiled grimly. _That_ might prove to be the most useful thing of all, but he'd save it for a last resort. He'd need an extraction plan, if things went as messy as he anticipated.

An hour later, he was back on dry land, dressed in a blue polo short, khaki trousers and trainers only half a size too big, a baseball cap and sunglasses an excellent disguise, and a necessary one. He'd lost one of the contact lenses that disguised his weirdly metallic purple-and-gold irises (a legacy of Loki's enhancement charm) and needed to hide his eyes until he could find some new coloured lenses. He'd purloined a few things from the boat, wrapped them in a plastic binbag to swim back to shore, and left two hundred dollars behind as compensation.

Next step: communications. If Barney was here, working with the Soldier, that meant HYDRA. Or some other enemy. He couldn't risk a payphone. Needed a prepaid mobile; but there was a law here that meant he needed ID to buy a SIM card, and he couldn't use his ID.

So Clint walked to the centre of town, where there was a decent-sized shopping mall, bought a smartphone without a SIM card in an electronics store and went looking for some kids. He found three boys of around sixteen or so lurking hopefully near an liquor outlet, and while ordinarily the last thing he would have done was encourage them to drink, he cut a deal with them. He'd buy them a bottle of vodka if one of them would go and get him a new prepaid SIM card in the supermarket next door.

Kids being kids, they shrugged and one of them took the bills he handed over. The boy was back in ten minutes, even doing Clint the favour of setting up the account for him. He went into the liquor store and bought the vodka for them, handing it over outside, well out of range of the security cameras. He watched as the boys headed into a local park, shaking his head a little regretfully before turning away. One bottle of vodka between three of them wouldn't lead to a stomach pump, and he'd have to do a lot worse than this in the next couple of days, he suspected.

Clint walked away in the opposite direction, typing in a number on the phone, and pressed _Dial_.

"Avengers Tower," JARVIS said after a single ring, "how may I direct your call?"

"JARVIS, it's Clint. I've got a serious problem. Who's there?"

"Good day, Mr Barton. I'm afraid no one is here. Mr Stark is currently recovering from open-heart surgery in Los Angeles and Ms Potts is with him, as is Colonel Rhodes. Mr Banner is in Liberia; he left three weeks ago to join the medical efforts fighting the Ebola outbreak there. Prince Thor is, I believe, currently on Asgard. And Miss Romanoff and Mr Rogers are in Washington D.C. with Mr Wilson. Is there any way in which I may assist you?"

Clint hesitated, wanting to ask a million questions – _Tony, having open-heart surgery?_ _And who's Wilson?_ – but made himself focus. "Is this line secure?"

"Yes, Mr Barton."

"Okay. I need you to get a message to Natasha as soon as possible. Tell her Jen has been taken, by the Winter Soldier and my brother. I need a GPS fix on Jen's necklace."

"Please hold," JARVIS said. "My sincerest hopes for Mrs Barton's safety, sir…"

Clint wanted to tell JARVIS to shut up and call Natasha, but intellectually he knew that the AI was probably already talking to her on another line, so he made himself wait patiently. And then there was a click.

"What the fuck, Hawk?" came Natasha's astonished voice. "I thought the two of you were safely out of this!"

"Possibly if I'd had a clue as to what the fuck 'this' actually was, I might have been able to avoid trouble before Jen was bloody well kidnapped!" he'd found a deserted alleyway behind some shops and felt free to shout.

"Don't blame _me_ for you not checking your email!"

"Don't give me that, Tasha, you could have activated your necklace any fucking time you wanted and I'd have moved heaven and earth to get in touch!"

Natasha sighed. "All right, maybe I should have called you in. But really, this thing has snowballed so fast…"

"Natasha, this shit went down five fucking _days_ ago, I've just been looking at the newspapers!"

"And today I've fronted a Congressional hearing to fucking well argue for all of our lives!"

There was a moment of silence between them then, and Clint said "This isn't helping anything. I'm gonna tell you what's gone down here. We pulled into port today and I went to get groceries. When I came back, Jen was missing and there was a photo on my phone." He could still hardly believe what he was about to say. "The Winter Soldier has her. And he's with my brother. Barney."

"Fuuuck," Natasha said after a few seconds of shocked silence. She didn't bother with the stupid comment of 'but I thought Barney was dead'. Instead she said "What are their demands?"

"There weren't any. They just blew up the boat. They gave me a five second warning so I'm guessing they want me alive, for now at least. If I'm dead Jen loses her value as a hostage. Or bait."

"I've taken my necklace off and plugged it into the Starkphone port," Natasha said then, her voice businesslike, "and I have a GPS trace. It's in motion; looks like helicopter or light aeroplane speed, heading south towards Brisbane from your location. I'll get JARVIS to take over the trace. Clint, you're on your own, I'm afraid, until we can get Steve on a plane, but he'll be at least eighteen hours getting to you. With the Winter Soldier there, Steve will want to follow – Clint, it's the weirdest thing, the guy is that old friend of Steve's he always talks about, Bucky Barnes. Steve thought he died but it turns out that HYDRA got him and they've brainwashed him and turned him into, well, you've heard me talk about him…"

"All too much," Clint said grimly. "So I take it I've no help available immediately?"

"Not from S.H.I.E.L.D. resources, not that you can trust right now."

"Director Fury?"

"Is as dead as Agent Coulson," Natasha said, and by the dry tone of her voice he knew that she had learned Coulson lived. Which meant Fury did too.

"Okay, so if there's no help at that end, maybe I can find some from local resources. JARVIS, are you still on the line?"

"Here, Mr Barton," the AI replied.

"Can you patch me through to Jacques Svendson?"

"Good luck, Clint," Natasha said before hanging up. "Find her quickly."

The phone rang several times before it was picked up with a weary "This better be fucking important," and Clint realised it was the middle of the night in London.

"Jacques, it's Clint," he said without preamble. "Shit's gone down and Jen's been kidnapped."

There were several long moments of silence while Jen's only-just-former Special Forces brother processed that, and then Jacques snarled at the other end of the line, "What the _fuck_, Barton?"

"I've no time to explain. I'm in a town called Bowen. Jen still has her necklace, or we hope she does, and JARVIS is tracking the trace south towards Brisbane, but they're in a chopper or light aircraft. I only have my own ID on me because our boat got blown up, and for obvious reasons I don't want to catch a commercial flight. Driving will take too long. Any help you can drum up for me around here?"

Another long moment of silence. "I'll get back to you. Get to the airfield. It's not a large field, but I'll have someone there for you as soon as I can." And Jacques hung up abruptly.

Clint made a quick stop as he walked out of town towards the small airfield. There was a hardware store; he picked up gloves, duct tape, rope, cable ties, a soft-sided toolbag, a selection of innocuous-looking (in combination) tools he'd be able to get through airport security if he had to. Some decent work boots and socks.

And he talked to JARVIS on the Bluetooth earbug that had come with the phone, getting him to hack the marina's security camera feed, ride piggyback on the police investigation into the boat explosion. He wasn't particularly surprised that a large cruiser – large enough for a helicopter to land on the top deck – had pulled in at the dock alongside his catamaran and pulled out again twenty minutes later. The cameras were too far away to show anything else. Well, the police would follow that up. The boat wouldn't get far, but he already knew Jen wasn't on it.

As it turned out, he didn't have to get through airport security, because Bowen Airport was barely worth the name, and he'd just walked in through the doors of a shed that laughably called itself a terminal when a woman came striding up to him. She looked extremely practical and sensible, wearing khaki cargo shirt and pants, heavy desert boots and a baseball cap with _Konrad Aviation_ emblazoned across the front.

"Jacques says to tell you that he'd have kicked your ass if Steve and Natasha hadn't interfered."

Clint actually laughed, and the woman grinned. "You're the one they call Hawkeye?"

"I am." He held out a hand. "And you?"

"Diana Konrad." She shook swiftly and gestured him to the terminal doors. "I've got your ride."

'Ride' turned out to be – a crop-dusting helicopter? _Seriously_? Clint gave Diana a dirty look. The spraying gear was disconnected and lying on the floor inside the small hangar, but…

"No, you can't fly her, mate," she swung herself up into the pilot's seat. "This is my livelihood. And she's faster than she looks. Sit down and belt up."

She was definitely a friend of Jacques and Jen, she had the same no-nonsense attitude. Clint liked her already. "So how do you know Jacques?" he asked as the chopper lifted off into the sky.

"Jen and I went to high school together." They were sitting side by side in the small cockpit, and Diana shot him a sympathetic glance. "I am really sorry to hear that she's missing."

Clint's jaw tightened. "Yes. Jacques told you…"

"He told me to do whatever the hell I had to do to get her back and no questions would be asked. I owe Jacques a debt, anyway." She said no more for a moment, but he was looking at her intently, still wondering how far he could trust her, and eventually she lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug, her eyes still focussed forward out of the helicopter's bubble canopy. "My husband. I met him when Jen and I were on a road trip to the AusSAS base outside Perth to visit Jacques, right after we finished high school and he passed Selection. We had all these big dreams, you know, and then I met Paul Konrad. He was Jacques' squad-leader. And all my dreams suddenly changed."

"I've met him," Clint said. "In Afghanistan." He remembered Specialist Konrad well, the leader of the AusSAS troop, the one who had made the decisions and helped with the planning. He'd been a big guy, almost Steve Rogers-sized, and yeah, Clint remembered him mentioning a wife.

"Yes, Jacques filled me in that it was you they met on that mission. Well, his following tour over there, Paul was shot and seriously injured. Jacques carried him out to the extraction point on his back, but Paul was too badly wounded. He didn't make it home."

"I'm sorry," Clint said inadequately after a moment of silence. "He was a helluva soldier."

"Yes he was. But I do owe Jacques, for bringing him out of there. I even got to say goodbye, via Skype. So, you see," Diana glanced sideways at him, "I know what it is to lose the one you love. I'll help you get Jen back, come hell or high water."

"Thank you," he said, looking at his phone again, seeing the GPS indicator still heading steadily south. "It could be both, considering who we're up against."

"So what's your plan?" she asked after a few moments of quiet.

"Have you seen the movie _Taken_?" he asked in a casual tone.

"Yeah, I have."

"I'm gonna make Liam Neeson look mild-mannered and gentle when I get hold of the people who took my wife." The words were delivered calmly, but Diana didn't doubt for a minute the lethal rage behind them. She closed her mouth and concentrated on coaxing greater speed out of the old helicopter as Clint started working on his phone.

**A/N: Finally, I hear you say! Yes, finally, I've got far enough ahead of myself on this story that I'm ready to start posting it. Chapters will generally be longer than Through A Glass Darkly and will probably go up twice a week. Hope you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know in the comments!**


	4. Chapter 2 - Barney's Captive

**Chapter Two**

Jen came round slowly, blinking against the bright sunlight falling on her face. Her head seemed fuzzy; disconnected, and she was having trouble getting her eyes to focus. Plus, everything was loud. And moving. Nausea threatened, and she closed her eyes briefly, willing it down. With them closed, her memory started to return.

The guy who looked like Clint. Only – not. The face was the same, but the hair was darker, the eyes – normal blue-green, not transformed metallic gold-and-purple – were harder and colder. And he wasn't as muscular as Clint. He'd smiled down at her – a nasty, vicious, cold smile – and said something in a guttural language she didn't understand to the man with him. Big guy, longish dark hair, killer cheekbones, ice-blue eyes with a curiously blank look to them. And an arm made out of metal, Jen remembered, recalling with a wince the pain which had seared through her skull as that hand had struck.

She wanted to bring her hands up to check her head, but they were cuffed behind her back, and she was tied down to some sort of stretcher. Jen slitted her eyelids a fraction to look around. _Helicopter_, she decided, from the noise and what little she could see. _Well isn't this just fucking peachy_. She could see two dark heads sitting in the front seats directly ahead of her. The longer-haired guy – _Metalarm_, she decided to call him – was sitting still, head bent forward. Looks-like-Clint was flying the chopper. He spoke to Metalarm occasionally but got no verbal response.

They obviously didn't think she'd have woken up yet. Jen wondered if they had any idea what she was capable of. Despite her short stature (four foot eleven in her bare feet) she'd been well-trained in combat techniques, first by her Special Forces father and brother, then by Clint, and that was even discounting the speed, strength and resilience she'd gained from the enchantment Loki had laid on them both.

_You just keep right on underestimating me_, Jen thought angrily, closing her eyes to wait, knowing that she was healing with every minute. _Just wait until I get one of you alone! Especially you, Looks-like-Clint, telling others to do your dirty work. I saw the skeevy look you gave my boobs before Metalarm clobbered me_. Jen was willing to bet the creep would find an excuse to be alone with her sooner rather than later, and a slight, nasty smile curved the corner of her lips as she thought about all the ways she could break the asshole even with her hands tied.

They flew for hours. Jen used the time to rest. And to plan. They'd taken her to get to Clint, she suspected, and they didn't just want to kill him because a limpet mine under the boat's hull would probably have taken care of both of them quite nicely, especially if they waited to detonate it until after the catamaran was back at sea.

Clint would call in the rest of the Avengers to help find her; was THAT was these two were after? Well, if it was, she couldn't imagine what kind of backup that they might have, that they thought could get them an advantage over the whole team. It might be a good idea for her to do some reconnaissance before she quit this party. Who knew, maybe she could even get Looks-like-Clint to spill his dastardly plan. He was certainly acting like the one in charge, and while she didn't have Natasha's training, she reckoned she might be able to use her boobs to compensate.

They'd stopped to refuel once before flying on, and night was falling before the helicopter began to lose altitude again. Finally they landed on what was clearly the rooftop of a skyscraper.

_Has to be Brisbane,_ Jen thought to herself as they carried her stretcher out and she let her head loll to the side to catch a view of the skyline. She could see bridges over the river, and the only other big city within range of what they'd covered that day was the Gold Coast, which was coastal, no river. She didn't know Brisbane well, but a couple of phone calls and she'd have somewhere safe to go and hole up until Clint arrived. He was coming for her. She could almost _feel_ his contained rage, a tight knot at the base of her skull that had nothing to do with the headache from the lump on her head.

They'd found, in the weeks and months since Loki's enchantment had tied them together permanently, that their bond was expanding to include a sixth sense of what each other was thinking and feeling. And it wasn't imaginary; they'd tested it, very privately. Jen was confident that Clint would find her even if her captors did remove and dispose of the arrow necklace she could still feel lying in the hollow of her throat.

"You fucking hit her too hard," Looks-like-Clint – no, she wasn't going to keep calling him that. She didn't know why he looked like Clint – she'd heard his horrible family history, and this guy couldn't possibly be a relative – but whoever, _whatever_ he was, he was just scum, _nothing_ like Clint.

_Scum_, Jen decided, keeping her eyes closed and her body lax as the two men lifted her off the stretcher and onto something softer. One of them rolled her to her front and removed the handcuffs.

"Is that wise?" a low voice rasped. Must be Metalarm. Huh, she'd thought he might not speak English, but that was definitely an American accent, though overlaid with something Eastern European.

"Look at the size of her," Scum scoffed. "No bigger than a kid. And you hit her too hard – she should have come round by now."

Cold metal at her brow might have made her flinch if she hadn't been expecting it. Instead, Jen made a slight movement and let out a low moan. Then another, followed by a croaky whisper of "Hurts…" and a flutter of her eyelashes.

"She wakes," Metalarm said, icy blue eyes staring into hers from a close range. She allowed her eyes to widen with fright. It wasn't hard. He was pretty fucking scary, a big guy – close to Steve Rogers-sized – straggly dark hair falling around a stubbled jaw that looked as though it had been chiselled from solid granite, his piercing blue eyes seeming to look right through her.

"Who – who are you? Where am I?" she flinched away from him, doing, she thought, a good impression of a dazed panic.

"Back off, Soldier. Hey, sweetheart," Scum sat down beside her on the edge of the bed she found herself on, reaching to touch her head with gentle fingers. He gave her what he probably thought was a kindly smile, but it didn't reach his eyes, which were as flat and dead as a shark's. "You hit your head real hard. Are you all right?"

_Oh, I see. We're playing good cop, bad cop. Hoping for me to cling to you because Metalarm is so scary? I can play that role. Maybe you're even hoping I'll confuse you with Clint?_

"Don't – please don't hurt me," she whimpered, giving him a pleading look, and then letting her eyes widen. "Hawk..?"

"I'm afraid not," the creep didn't seem to be able to keep his eyes on her face. Well, they _had_ snatched her wearing a bikini.

"I'm cold," she shivered theatrically, but to her surprise it was Metalarm who picked up a blanket and put it around her shoulders. "Thank you," she whispered, giving him an appealing look too_. I'm scared and concussed and all alone, don't you feel just a little bit sorry for me? _Much to her amazement, his hard face softened just the slightest bit. Scum glared at Metalarm and said something in that guttural language.

"_Da_," Metalarm said simply, and Jen thought, _ah, Russian_. He turned and walked away, heading to a door on the other side of the room, opening it and leaving, though he left the door open and she could hear him moving about just outside.

_Okay. Bad cop out of the room. Want to play good cop, scared victim? _She turned to Scum, widening her eyes. "I don't understand," she said pitifully. "Where am I? Did _he_ hit me? And why do you look like Hawk? Where _is_ Hawk?"

"There was an explosion," Scum said, pulling a phone from his pocket and bringing up a video clip, "on your boat. You were hurt and Clint's been killed. I'm so sorry."

If she hadn't been totally sure that Clint was very much alive and getting closer by the minute, Jen would have had hysterics at the clip that played, showing their catamaran going up in a blaze of flames, two limp bodies falling into the water. _You bastards have had hours to have this footage faked; even if you did blow the boat up, I wasn't fucking on it. I'm not fucking falling for this shit_. But outwardly, she reacted as Scum obviously wanted, letting her eyes widen, then her face crumple before she let out a sob.

"No. Oh, no!"

"I'm so sorry," he said again, and dared to put an arm around her shoulders. "Clint left instructions that if anything ever happened to him, I should come get you. I'm his brother. I've been in hiding for years, he's never told you about me…"

_This is a really weird game you're playing. _But Jen allowed herself to lean against him – scrawny, not the muscular bulk of her husband, _ugh_ – and said "He told me his brother was dead!"

"We've got enemies, sweetheart, I had to disappear. Some things he couldn't tell even you. I went underground years ago. I'm FBI, I've been undercover a long time."

_You lying piece of SHIT. You tried to _kill_ him, and he thought he killed you in self-defence. You better fucking hope you're already dead by the time he catches up with you, mate_. Rage rose up in Jen until her vision flushed red, but she could still hear Metalarm moving around in the other room. "So – you're Barney?" she choked out, hoping the fury that was almost strangling her might be mistaken for sobs, especially as she didn't look at him.

"That's right. May I call you Jen? I'm truly sorry about Clint, Jen," he didn't wait for permission. "And now I have to get you out of here, his enemies will be looking for us both."

"I'm so tired," she let herself sag limply against him, thinking _don't move me again, not yet. Give Clint time to get here. Give me time to deal with you, you arrogant excuse for a man!_

Barney hesitated, and then laid her down on the bed, putting the blanket over her. "We're safe enough here until tomorrow. My friend will bring you something to eat. Get some rest."

"Your friend," Jen looked at the door, then gave Barney an appealing look, "he's kind of scary…"

"He's harmless to you," Barney said firmly. "He's just muscle, works for an outfit I've been with for a while. He'll follow orders."

_Mm. He seems kind of – robotic. Brainwashed? Hypnotised? Maybe even an actual AI?_ Metalarm came back in through the door at that moment, carrying a tray, and Jen wondered just how dense Barney was. She shrank away from Metalarm, whimpering, clutching at Barney's arm.

"Don't let him hurt me!"

"He won't hurt you. Soldier," Barney addressed Metalarm. "Don't hurt this woman. No matter what. Protect her."

_My God, you really _are_ that stupid._ Jen barely managed to suppress the smile of victory as Metalarm acknowledged the order in his low, raspy voice.

"Mission: protect, acknowledged," he rasped, and then turned to Jen. "I have brought food."

"Thank you," she said shyly, looking up at him, attempting to push herself feebly up on her arms, guessing that Barney wouldn't have the patience to actually care for her if she acted like an invalid. "I – I feel a bit weak…"

"Look after her," Barney said with an impatient sigh. "I need to go check in." He stood up, looking down at Jen. "I'll see you a bit later, Jen." He barely waited for her to say okay before heading out into the other room, pulling the door shut behind him.

Jen eyed Metalarm – Soldier? – curiously. "Is that your name? Soldier?"

"I – remember no other." He stooped over her, lifting her upright gently, putting pillows behind her back, and then knelt beside the bed and brought the tray to her lap. Soup, sandwiches, a bottle of water. Jen considered it. _Drugged? _Well, the sealed cap was still on the water. She feigned it being too difficult to remove, and Soldier took it from her hands and did it for her.

"Thank you," she sipped, looking at him curiously. He dipped some soup on the spoon and offered it to her. She eyed it cautiously.

"I have been ordered not to harm you, to protect you," Soldier reminded her quietly. "There is nothing but food here. Tomato soup from a can. Bread, ham, cheese…"

Jen couldn't say why, but she trusted him. She took the spoon and ate the soup. It was the first thing she'd eaten since the previous evening – _damn morning sickness, anyway_ – and her stomach made an embarrassing rumbling noise as the food reached it. Soldier actually smiled slightly, and he stayed kneeling beside her, watching, as she ate every scrap of food on the tray.

"Good," he rumbled quietly as she drained the last of the water bottle. "Rest now." He stood, picking up the tray.

"Please," Jen said, suddenly frightened that she might not be able to deal with Barney quite as well as she hoped, "I think – I think Barney might intend to hurt me. To rape me. Please don't let him."

Those icy blue eyes looked into hers for a long moment, and then Soldier inclined his head in a slow nod. "I will not let him harm you."

Jen lay down and watched Soldier leave, turning the light off and closing the door behind him. She counted to ten and then shot out of bed, rushing over to the door and pressing her ear to it. Good, the bastards were cheapskates; her enhanced hearing could pick up every word through the flimsy timber.

"She is resting," Soldier said, obviously in response to a query from Barney.

"Damn. Oh well, I can wait."

"You must not hurt her, Barton." Jen flinched at hearing that name, before realising that of course Barney was a Barton too.

"Of course not," Barney said, "what do you take me for?" Jen could hear the lie in his voice. "We've been ordered to deliver her in good condition. A little consensual fun between adults wouldn't breach that."

"She believes her husband has just died. I do not think that she would consent at this time."

"Of course she would," Barney was getting closer to the door, his voice was getting louder. "A little comfort from her husband's brother…"

"You will not force her?" Soldier sounded confused.

"Of course I'm not going to force her! I ordered you to protect her, didn't I? Would I have done that if I intended to hurt her?"

"No…"

_You gullible, brainwashed man-robot_. Jen bolted back to the bed, easing under the blanket and trying to relax as the door opened and Barney's voice said "I'll just check on her. I've got a drink for her here. I'll drop it off and check on her in an hour…"

_Ketamine or Rohypnol?_ Jen wondered sarcastically as Barney came to her side with a glass of water.

"Jen? I've got a drink for you. Here, let me help you…" he put the glass to her lips.

"I got it. Thanks. I'm thirsty," she took it, tipped her head to the side and pretended to drink. In reality she poured the whole thing down across her cheek and onto the pillow, trusting that he wouldn't see it in the dim light spilling through the doorway. _Ugh, that smelt bad._

"All right, good girl. I'll come back and check on you in a bit, we can't leave you unsupervised with a concussion," Barney said smugly.

_Could you be any more of an asshole?_ Jen wondered as he left the room. She waited a moment before slipping out of bed again and beginning to explore, mostly by touch. She could deal with Barney without a weapon if she had to, and she was hoping she could talk Soldier down now that he'd been ordered not to hurt her, but if there was anyone else in the building – well, a weapon would be a good idea anyway.

There was nothing. Even the mattress was latex, and the bed was sturdily constructed timber with the slats screwed into the base. She might be able to rip one of them off, but not without making a noise that could cost her the element of surprise. In the end she sighed quietly and lay down to wait.

It was a good deal less than an hour before Barney returned, the impatient idiot, quietly closing the door behind him, unbuckling his belt as he moved towards the bed, his breathing coming quick and heavy.

"Jen, it's me, it's Hawk," Barney said softly, and Jen realised that whatever drug he had slipped her was intended to make her not just compliant but highly suggestible._ What the hell is it with men trying to seduce me while pretending to be Clint? _she wondered, suppressing the urge to laugh. _That was so six months ago._

"Darling," she said sleepily, rolling to her side and holding her arms out. "You're here."

"Yes, sweetheart," he shucked his clothes hastily, pulled the blanket off her, and stood looking down at her. "Fuck, you're gorgeous," he muttered under his breath. "That lucky bastard…" His hands reached for her breasts.

"_My_ lucky bastard," Jen said coldly, and before Barney could react to her wide-awake, totally clear tone, she grabbed his nuts and _twisted_ with all her strength, digging her nails in as hard as she could. He doubled over, choking and gasping, and she was up instantly, getting him in a headlock, wrapping the blanket around his head and pulling it tight, jamming his face down into the mattress until he went still. She waited another minute to be sure he was unconscious, and then let go, snatching his T-shirt off the floor and yanking it on over her head. It sickened her to wear anything of his but running around in a bikini really wasn't the most inconspicuous thing she could possibly do. She ran to the door silently in her bare feet, eased it open and stepped out into the main room.

And came face to face with Soldier, sitting on a chair facing her door, sharpening a knife. His blue eyes lifted to hers and for a moment they were both still.

"Did he hurt you?" Soldier asked.

"He wanted to," Jen prevaricated.

"Did you kill him?"

"No," he'd still been breathing, although unconscious, when she let go. And the blanket probably wouldn't suffocate him. "What are your orders, Soldier?" she needed to know if he'd let her go. He was twice her size, and armed with at least one knife. Barney had been a cakewalk. Soldier, she suspected, was out of her league.

"Obey handler."

"And who is your handler? Barney?"

"Handler is dead. Barton – was a temporary handler."

"Okay," she was moving very slowly, very cautiously, around the room away from him, to another door on the far side. He stood and blocked the doorway, far too swiftly for her to evade. Jen froze, spreading her hands, trying to look unthreatening. "Did – Barton – give you any orders that you still have to carry out?"

"Don't hurt this woman. Protect her."

"I see. That's it?" _Wow, Barney really was a few tools short of the full kit, wasn't he?_ "Well, good. I'm leaving now, Soldier. You haven't been told to keep me here, so you can't stop me. Not without hurting me. And it's dark out there, in the city. I'll need protecting."

He seemed to think it through, looked at the door to the bedroom, looked back at her. "Protect. Stay here, where it's safe."

_Hell to the no_. "Soldier, when Barton wakes up, he may give you new orders. He might tell you to stop protecting me. To hold me down while he rapes me, maybe order you to hurt me yourself. It's not safe here."

He seemed to consider that, so Jen pressed on. "This is Brisbane. I have friends here. I can get us to a safe place."

"Friends?" he frowned, as though he had trouble with the concept.

"Yeah. People who would put everything on the line for me."

"To the end of the line," Soldier whispered, almost to himself, and he opened the door and walked out, obviously scoping the room beyond, because a moment later he beckoned Jen after him.

They were half-way down the fire stairs when there was a shout of rage from above them. "Soldier! What the fuck, get her back up here!"

"Shit shit shit…" Jen struck out frantically, but it was as though he had been waiting for it, turning to take her blows on his metal arm, and _ouch_ that hurt, before wrenching her arms behind her back and half-dragging her back up the stairs. Barney met them a couple of floors later, limping, wearing only his pants, his face bruised, rage in his eyes. "He's going to hurt me," Jen gasped frantically to Soldier, "you have to stop him!"

"_Hurt_ you, I'm going to fucking _kill_ you, you little slut!" Barney snarled, and perhaps he'd forgotten the order he gave to Soldier, because he stepped forward, his arm swinging to backhand Jen across the face. She was already rocking back to try and avoid the blow, and though her arms were twisted behind her back, she shifted her weight, ready to strike with her feet.

Except the blow never connected, because Soldier parried it easily with his flesh hand, and then he let go of Jen and his metal hand swung up in an uppercut that crashed home under Barney's chin and lifted him clean off his feet, propelling him back into the wall, where he slumped to the ground unconscious, blood trickling from between his lips.

"Protect," Soldier said. And then he repeated the words he'd said earlier. "To the end of the line."

Jen was already running, going down the stairs as fast as she could, not looking back. She could hear doors opening above her, attention being drawn by Barney's shouts a few moments ago. She had no idea if the whole building belonged to the 'outfit' Barney had said he and Soldier worked for, and frankly she didn't care.

Soldier was coming down after her, gaining on her fast. She knew she couldn't defeat him, especially not since he had the higher ground. She spared a glance over her shoulder to see if she might be able to stay ahead long enough to get out on the ground floor – and tripped when she saw him right on her heels.

"No! Protect!" Soldier skidded to a stop, looking at the small women crumpled at the bottom of the flight of stairs. She hadn't fallen far, and he doubted any bones were broken, but she had hit her head on the concrete wall. He checked her over fast, and then, hearing excited voices coming from above them, scooped her swiftly into his arms. "Safe place. Must go to a safe place." He carried on sprinting down the stairs, Jen cradled close to his chest.

**Phew. Lots of action and whump in this chapter! Next time: does Bucky get Jen out okay? What happens when he and Clint come face to face?**

**Comments are always very much appreciated!**


	5. Chapter 3 - Mission: Protect

**Chapter 3 – Mission: Protect**

"Put. My. Wife. Down." The last thing Clint had expected to see, as he slinked up to the rear door of the building, preparing to make his entry, was the Winter Soldier to come walking out, Jen limp in his arms. Clint wasn't fazed for a moment though, just drawing the pistol another friend of Jacques had met him and Diana with when they landed in a small park a few minutes away. The friend – a police officer – had handed the gun over with a single clip of ammunition.

"Confiscated it off a drug dealer. Best I can get at short notice," and melted away into the twilight.

It was a piece of crap, but at a range of ten feet, he couldn't miss. He pointed the gun at the Winter Soldier's forehead. "Put my wife _down_," he said it again.

"Protect. Safe place. Do you have a safe place?" The Soldier looked utterly confused, and Clint thought about the conversation he'd had with Steve a little while ago, as he and Diana rushed here from the helicopter. Steve was in one of Tony's jets on a satellite phone, and the reception wasn't great, but he'd been emphatic: the Winter Soldier was his old friend Bucky Barnes, taken and brainwashed by HYDRA, but he was sure Bucky was still in there somewhere.

"If he's hurt Jen I'll kill him," Clint said coldly when Steve finished speaking.

Steve sighed. "And I won't blame you. But please, _try_ not to."

Confused blue eyes stared back at Clint, and he scowled, not lowering the gun. "Let me take her."

"No. Protect."

"Clint," Diana came to his side, from the doorway she'd been hiding in – far too close to the action, he gave her a death stare. He'd told her to stay at least a hundred metres away. She returned his glare with a cool look. "Let's fight about who gets to carry Jen when we're away from here, okay? Come _on_." Gently she put a hand on Clint's wrist and pressed him to lower the gun. He hesitated. Jen was breathing, he could see her chest rising and falling, and she didn't look hurt. Slowly, he lowered the gun. The Soldier ignored him completely.

"Do you have a safe place?" the Soldier asked Diana.

"Yes, I do. I have a helicopter and I can fly us all far away from here to a very safe place. Follow me."

It seemed clear orders made the Winter Soldier happy. He followed Diana immediately. She led them down dark alleys and deserted streets, checking around corners to make sure their path was clear before waving them on.

"There's CCTV all over the city," she'd told Clint before they even landed, "but with any luck, we'll be long gone before anyone reviews it." She swapped her Konrad Aviation cap for a local football team one, tucking a thick knot of chestnut hair up inside. "And if anyone comes after me, well, I trust you and your friends can get me out of trouble?"

Clint had agreed at once, hoping that was still true. Surely Stark's money could get them out of whatever they got into, even if they could no longer rely on S.H.I.E.L.D. That and Jacques' military and police connections.

At the helicopter, Clint faced off against the Winter Soldier – _Bucky_ – again while Diana quickly ran through pre-flight checks. "I need you to give me my wife." He didn't draw the gun, but his fists were balled at his sides.

"Protect," was his only answer.

"She is _mine_ to protect, not yours!" Clint was almost trembling.

Things might have gone badly if Jen hadn't come round from her faint at that moment. "Hawk," she said dazedly, flinching as she opened her eyes to see Soldier's face above her.

"Jen," that was Hawk's voice! Her head snapped around and she saw him, standing there just a few feet away.

"Hawk! Soldier, put me down!" she began to struggle, and Soldier immediately set her on her feet. She bolted to Clint, flinging herself into his arms, pressing kisses against his mouth. He held her tightly, groaning with relief.

"Oh God, darlin', are you all right? Did they hurt you?"

"No. But they told me you were dead." She clung to him tightly. "I _knew_ you weren't, but I still – I had a few bad moments…"

He pressed his face against her hair, breathing her in, though he never took his eyes off the Soldier. "Where's Barney?"

"Oh," Jen stilled. "Clint…"

"Just tell me," he said raggedly.

"I struck him down," the Soldier said emotionlessly. "He attempted to hurt her. My orders were to protect."

"I think he's still alive," Jen said, "just unconscious."

"I – see." Clint had no idea how to deal with that right now. So he did what he'd done with the realization that Barney was still actually alive, what S.H.I.E.L.D. had trained him to do many years ago with information he was currently unable to process. He filed it in the back of his mind to deal with later. "Are we ready yet?" he called across to Diana.

"Yeah, yeah. Gonna be a tight squeeze though with four of us, though. I'll need big guy here to sit in the front passenger seat, then you behind me to balance the weight, Clint."

"_Diana?_" Jen said incredulously, recognising her friend's voice as the other woman came around the chopper.

"Hello, sugar. Glad you're all right." Diana gave Jen a quick, one-armed hug, then pointed at the helicopter. "Much though I like Brisbane, it's time to get outta town."

As they were buckling in, Diana made a quick phone call. "Aunt Vivi? Are you up at the property? Okay, well can I borrow it for a day or two? I'm in Brisbane, got the chopper, just want to stop over – thanks." She ended the conversation, then glanced over her shoulder at Clint and Jen. "My aunt has a cattle property up in the hills, 'bout a hundred miles from here," she explained. "She's staying with my cousins in town for a few days, though, so we'll have the place to ourselves. It's very quiet and a good spot to hide out while we decide what to do next."

Clint nodded. Jacques had trusted Diana to help, so he would too. She'd certainly proved herself more than competent in getting them this far. She was a damn good pilot, coaxing the elderly helicopter to far greater performance than he'd expected, and not much more than an hour later she was setting it down gently in an undulating pasture. In the pitch darkness, only one small searchlight under the chopper, that was some feat.

"This way," Diana said, once she'd secured the helicopter, pulling a flashlight from a storage compartment. They followed her uphill through scrubby trees, over rough, stony ground, Clint carrying Jen because she was still barefoot, until at last they arrived at – a log cabin?

"Aunt Vivi built it," Diana said, grinning as Clint shot her a querying look. "She's an interesting character."

Soldier had said nothing since the helicopter lifted off. He stood silently now, hands at his sides, looking around with hyper-alert senses.

"There's only one proper bedroom," Diana pointed, as she let them into the cabin. "You and Jen take it. There should be a first-aid kit in the bathroom cabinet, but if you need anything else let me know."

"What about you – where will you sleep?" Jen asked anxiously. "And Soldier…"

"Protect," Soldier said in a flat monotone. "Not sleep."

Jen and Clint exchanged looks. "Jen is safe now, Bucky," Clint said gently. "You can rest."

"Who – is Bucky?" he sounded confused, his blue eyes moving from Jen to Clint. "The man on the bridge called me Bucky."

"_You're_ Bucky," Clint said. He had filled Jen in quickly on the flight, their heads pressed together, him hissing into her ear so that she could hear over the sound of the helicopter.

"Not Soldier. That was just a name they gave you. You're _Bucky_, and you don't have to listen to _them_ any more." Jen walked towards Bucky, pressed her fingers lightly on his flesh arm, and said "Thank you for protecting me, Bucky."

"Protect," he said, looking more confused than ever. "Mission acknowledged. Protect."

"I'm safe now, Bucky, you brought me to a safe place. This is my husband, Clint Barton," Jen tried to get him to relax. He seemed so tense, unafraid, but wary. "I'm always safe with Clint."

"Barton," Bucky said, his eyes flickering to Clint, seeing him in proper light for the first time. He stiffened. "Barton. Handler. Asset reports for duty, sir. Orders?"

Clint, Jen and Diana traded _oh, shit_ looks before Clint mentally shrugged. "We are staying here for tonight. We're safe here. This is our friend Diana. Please do what she says. Another friend, Steve – the man on the bridge – will be coming tomorrow and we will decide then what to do next. Until then, don't hurt anyone unless they are attacking us."

"Orders acknowledged," Bucky nodded, turning to Diana, who was giving Clint a _what-the-hell-am-I-supposed-to-do-with-him_ look. "Ma'am?"

"This way, Bucky," Diana said with a sigh. "There's a pull-out couch. You can sleep there. There's another bed in the loft," she reassured Jen's anxious glance.

**Oh, but Clint didn't get his chance to go all Liam Neeson! Well. Maybe another time **

**Hope you're enjoying! Please let me know in the comments what you think…**


	6. Chapter 4 - Conflicting Orders

**Chapter Four – Conflicting Orders**

The door closed behind Clint and Jen, and Diana looked up at the Winter Soldier – Bucky – and let out another sigh. "Are you hungry?" she asked at last when he just stood there, staring back at her from piercing blue eyes. She had the unpleasant feeling that he was cataloguing ways to kill her silently.

He didn't know how to answer the question. No one had ever asked him that. They just put food in front of him, or told him to prepare it. So he stared dumbly back at the woman in front of him, wondering how to classify her. She wasn't a target; she wasn't a mission (mission: protect); she wasn't a handler or a boss. _Pilot_. He seized on that. That made her another asset.

"When did you last eat?" Diana tried again.

He could answer that question. "Oh six thirty hours." The _other_ Barton had handed him an MRE then and he'd eaten it cold. Hot food was a rare treat for the Soldier.

"Then you must be hungry. Come with me," he followed her docilely. The cabin was laid out with one large main room, kitchen and living area all open-plan. They were almost to the kitchen part of the room when a sound came from behind the bedroom door and Bucky whipped round, snatching a knife from his boot.

"Protect!"

"No!"

He looked down in shock. Diana was clinging to his arm – his metal arm – shaking her head frantically. "Bucky, no. Jen doesn't need protecting."

Another muffled cry. He gestured towards the bedroom door, his orders at odds with each other. _Protect. Obey Diana_. "Protect," he said it almost pleadingly, still moving towards the bedroom door, dragging a resisting Diana along with him.

"They're making love," Diana blushed, saying it, but things were going to be way more embarrassing – and possibly bloody – if Bucky burst in on Clint and Jen doing the dirty. "They're married, they love each other, he was frantic with worry about her – it's what married people _do_," she said, seeing Bucky's utterly bemused expression. "You know. Sex."

"Oh," he stopped moving. "Jen – does not mind?"

"I seriously doubt it," Diana's lips quirked. They could both quite clearly hear Jen gasping out;

"Oh, yes, Hawk, _yes_!" this close to the door.

Bucky actually blushed. He didn't seem to be able to say anything, so Diana grinned cheekily at him and said;

"Hear that? She's quite safe. And we're being deeply creepy standing here listening to them. So why don't you come outside with me for a bit, you can reconnoitre while I check on the cattle. We'll get some food when we come back." She offered him a flashlight, but he shook his head.

"Don't need that. Full moon."

"Whatever," Diana shrugged. _No skin off her nose if he fell flat on his face in a cowpat._

Outside, Soldier looked around. The cabin stood in a clearing on quite a steep hillside, the front of it built up on stumps with a verandah wrapping around. There was probably quite a spectacular view in the daytime, he thought, turning to look down into the valley below. It was dark, but the full moon glowed on a smooth black surface. "Water?" he asked Diana, pointing.

"Lake Somerset," she replied. "A large reservoir."

"Towns?" he could see only a few glimmering lights on the opposite shore of the lake, and none at all on this side.

"Not really, no. Nearest is twenty klicks away on a pretty rough road." Diana twisted round and pointed at the range of mountains behind them. "Brisbane is behind those, to the southeast, but there are no passes in this area. You have to approach from the north, because the south and western approaches are blocked by the lake, and there's only one road in down this side of the lake. It's rough as all hell. All the properties down this side are pretty big – several hundred hectares at least – and the locals actually get in and out by helicopter most of the time." She smiled reminiscently. "It was my Aunt Vivi who taught me to fly. We used to come here every summer when I was a teenager; Coober Pedy is unbearable in the summer and it was so much cooler up here in the mountains."

_Mountains. Cold. Ice_. Soldier shivered. "Snow?" he asked almost fearfully. _I don't like snow_. Almost at once, he wondered where that thought had come from. It was not for him to have likes and dislikes.

Diana burst out laughing. "God, no, this is Queensland!" she shook her head. "The coldest it gets in mid-_winter_ is a mild morning frost. I'm talking about _relative_ cool – I come from Coober Pedy, in the desert; summer temperatures there, a hundred in the shade is considered chilly. It often gets that hot here in the summer too, but because it's higher up there's always a breeze, and we could always go swimming in the lake, or one of the dams on the property."

They had been walking down the hill towards the trees at the bottom, and arrived now, crossing a rough grassy track. "That's the only way in by road," Diana pointed northwards along the track, "it peters out just down there by the cattle yards."

He could see rail fencing in the direction she pointed, and nodded. "And other than by road?"

"Helicopter. Just through those trees, the way we came in, the track is just a little bit over that way. There's a small paddock there, it's the only place near the cabin flat enough to land, really." Diana felt sorry for Bucky, she really did. Clint had told her what he knew, and if the poor guy really had been repeatedly brainwashed and frozen for seventy years, only woken up to kill – well, he had a right to be really fucked up. She did her best to ease his mind, pointing around, telling him that there was no way to approach the cabin unseen in the daylight, and if hostiles did come by car or helicopter, they could just melt into the thickly forested mountains and disappear.

They followed the track down to the empty cattle yards and Diana checked on the automatic water trough, about all she could do in the darkness. She turned to go back.

"Where is the perimeter? I will patrol," Bucky spoke out of the darkness.

"Not tonight and not on foot," Diana said firmly. "This property is over two thousand hectares. And in case you aren't sure what that means, that's more than twenty square _kilometres_. Or, uh," she did some quick maths in her head, "nearly eight square miles, if you're working in those units. And the perimeter isn't all fenced. You'll get lost out in the forest and I am not coming to look for you. If you want to check around, you can come out with me in the morning."

"How will you get around, then?" Bucky asked. "The helicopter?"

"Horses," Diana said succinctly. "Can you ride?"

Horses had been part of his training. "Yes." Bucky looked around more as they walked back to the cabin. "Your aunt must be wealthy, to have so much land."

"Not all that wealthy," she grinned as he turned to look at her. "It's a big empty country. Some of the big cattle stations are thousands of square miles in area. This place is peanuts in comparison. Of course, it's good land: close to water, and we get decent rainfall here mostly. Aunt Vivi does all right. It's an old family property, they've had this land for nearly a hundred years. It used to be bigger but they've sold chunks off from time to time. Once, they owned nearly everything down this side of the lake."

Bucky stared, trying to imagine it. The lake had to be twenty or thirty miles long, and the strip of land between the lake and the mountains was probably three or four miles wide. One family could own that much land?

"Does she have employees?" he asked, "to help her manage it?" Wondering if there would be half a dozen ranch hands showing up unexpectedly in the morning.

"Seasonal people, mainly. Cattle are pretty good at looking after themselves for the most part. And Aunt Vivi actually trained as a veterinarian, so she takes care of any health problems herself. She only needs help at mustering and sale time. There will be someone wandering around tomorrow to check them out, but most likely it'll be one of the Spratly boys from next door on a horse, so don't be taking potshots at anyone without checking with me first, all right?"

It was an order, if vaguely worded, so Bucky nodded unquestioningly. She gave him another order – one he was pleased to receive – as they re-entered the cabin.

"Take a shower while I throw some food together, huh?" she pointed at a door he assumed must be the bathroom. "There's towels in that cupboard there. I'll see if I can find something else for you to wear." She looked a little doubtfully at his combat leathers.

Bucky wasn't going to protest. He hadn't been able to have more than a sketchy wash since being extracted from Washington DC, and his dip in Bowen marina that morning had left him feeling salty and sticky. Being _told_ to take a proper shower? Heaven.

**Lake Somerset is a real place, not too far from where I live, and it's very beautiful (check it out on Google). I've messed with the geography a little bit (road placement) but the properties surrounding it really are as remote and isolated as I've made them sound, even though it's less than sixty miles from Brisbane. Aunt Vivi's cabin is based on one that a friend of mine is currently building.**

**I'm always happy to hear from readers, so please leave me a comment in that great big empty review box!**


	7. Chapter 5 - Small Choices

**Chapter Five – Small Choices**

_He was a strange, strange guy._ But then, Clint had filled her in on the Winter Soldier's history so that she had some idea of what they might be facing – because she'd made it quite clear to Clint that she was there to help, not hide in a corner while he went in alone – and she supposed anyone with that sort of background would be all kinds of strange.

_Good-looking, though._ Diana grinned at her own foolishness as she investigated the contents of the pantry and refrigerator. It was four years since Paul's death and yeah, sometimes she did get lonely. But her husband had been a man in a million and she wasn't willing to settle for second best, nor for mere physical gratification.

God, she was _starving_. She hadn't eaten since breakfast, and it was now almost midnight. There wasn't much in the fridge – Aunt Vivi had said she planned to be gone a week – but plenty of food in the freezer. She found some frozen pizzas and shrugged. _That will have to do_. She switched the oven on and unpacked the pizzas onto baking trays. She was just sliding them into the oven when the bathroom door opened.

"You're finished? I found… some…" Diana's brain froze.

Bucky was standing in the doorway wearing just a towel around his waist. Water droplets clung lovingly to broad shoulders, trickled down heavy pectoral muscles onto the hardest, flattest washboard stomach she'd ever seen. But it was the scars that arrested Diana's attention, jagged, brutal scars surrounding the place where his metal arm attached to his body.

"Oh," she gulped after a moment. "Sorry. Rude of me to stare. Er, there's some clothes there."

He looked at her silently through a curtain of damp black hair for a moment, then picked up the bundle she indicated. It was just a pair of drawstring-waist jogging shorts and a large T-shirt Diana had a feeling Paul might have left here. It was plain blue though, so she couldn't be sure. Bucky pulled the shirt on over his head, dropped the towel and pulled the shorts on. Diana spun around, her face flaming.

_Note to self: gorgeous man has no body modesty._

_Though I probably wouldn't be modest either if I was built like that._

She grinned to herself, getting busy finding plates and cutlery, fetching water glasses and filling them from the filter in the fridge. When she turned around, Bucky was standing right behind her. She hadn't heard a sound, and was so shocked she dropped the last glass with a squeak.

He caught it before it hit the floor, only a little water sloshing out over his hand. Diana blinked, astonished at how fast he'd moved.

"Sorry," he murmured, a little raspy. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"That's all right," she managed, though her heart was pounding with shock. "You have that one." She gestured at the glass in his hand. "Sit down, please," she pointed to the stools at the breakfast bar. "The food won't be long."

The bedroom door opened at that moment and Clint came out, closing it quietly behind him. Coming over to the kitchen, he scooped up one of the other water glasses with a murmur of thanks and downed it.

"Is Jen all right?" Diana asked anxiously.

"She's fine. Sleeping. She's had a couple of knocks on the head today but nothing serious." Clint didn't say it could have been a hell of a lot worse if Jen hadn't been enhanced with superior durability and healing powers, thanks to Loki's enchantment on them.

"I – regret that I was unable to save her from hitting her head when she fell down the stairs," Bucky said awkwardly. "I believe that she thought I was in pursuit of her, but I only intended to aid her escape."

Clint stood eyeing him for a moment, his fists clenching and unclenching slowly, and Diana was reminded of his earlier remark about making Liam Neeson's character in _Taken_ look mild-mannered and gentle.

"It might have been a good deal harder to retrieve Jen without his help, Clint," she said quietly after a moment of frozen silence.

"Yeah," Clint finally sat down with a shrug. "Pardon me if I seem ungracious. Jen told me that you were the one who knocked her out the first time, plus I know you carried her off the boat. But thank you for helping her escape."

Diana silently poured Clint another glass of water and set in front of him. He murmured his thanks and sat staring into it. Bucky just sat, looking at Clint, but after a few long moments he turned his gaze to Diana and she gasped. His expression was pure agony, remorse, confusion, loss…

"It's all right," she tried to comfort him gently. "You had to follow orders. We understand. You still helped Jen, and we're very grateful for that."

"She – was kind," he said in a low voice after a moment. His blue eyes were anguished, and after a moment Diana rather nervously rounded the counter and placed her hand over his – the real one, not the metal one. "I regret – I didn't…"

"Bucky, it's all right. You're among friends now. We're not going to tell you to hurt good people any more. You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

He looked mistrustful, and she couldn't blame him. After a moment, though, he turned his hand under hers and clasped her fingers gently. "_You_ are kind too," he murmured.

"You get what you give," Diana replied with a smile. His brow furrowed, and she explained. "If I am kind to people, perhaps they will be kind to me. Maybe you'll rescue me one day like you did Jen, who knows? But it's not an obligation. You can pay it forward – maybe instead you'll help someone else just because you can."

Bucky thought about that for a little while, and eventually nodded. Diana smiled at him again, removed her hand from his and went to the oven. "Pizza's ready. Does Jen want any, Clint?"

"No, she says she ate a little while ago. She just wanted to sleep."

Diana dished up the pizza, keeping a couple of slices for herself and giving the rest to the two men. Bucky almost inhaled his, and she shook her head sadly, watching him. He was almost hunched over his plate, eating as though the food might be snatched away at any moment.

"Would you like some more?" she asked gently when he'd finished what was on his plate, and his eyes jerked up to her, startled.

"There's more here," she gestured to the slices on the cutting board that hadn't fit on the plates. "Would you like some?"

It took Bucky a long moment. She realised he wasn't used to being offered choices, just given orders. Perhaps it was time to start. And a small thing like accepting or declining some extra slices of pizza was a very simple choice.

"Yes," he said after a moment. "Please."

"Pass me your plate then." He did, and she slid the rest of the pizza slices onto it, after a glance at Clint, who shook his head, declining any more.

"Here you go. And take your time. It's all yours, no one is going to take it away from you, and there's no hurry."

_Take your time_ was an order, so he did, slowing down and savouring the food for the first time in – well, forever, it felt like.

Clint watched the Winter Soldier as he ate quietly. Dressed in ordinary clothes, his damp black hair falling around stubbled cheeks, he looked almost normal. Except for that crazy metal arm and the haunted blue eyes. He'd called Steve again – still in the air over the Pacific – and Steve had told him not to try to interrogate Barnes until he and some guy called Sam Wilson he was working with arrived.

He might trigger something dangerous if he asked the wrong question, and while Clint thought he could probably deal with the Soldier if he was properly armed, with nothing but a crappy pistol and Jen and Diana to worry about it was better to be cautious. Frankly he'd rather have left Barnes behind in Brisbane, but the Soldier seemed to have orders to protect Jen and Clint was actually okay with that. Especially as Barnes seemed to have managed to exercise a little discretion and turn Clint (as another 'Barton') into his temporary handler.

And there was another thing. _Barney_. Jen told him that the Soldier clobbered Barney into a wall and left him unconscious and bleeding, when Barney had tried to hit Jen. But at some point, Clint was going to have to deal with his brother. _Again_. He sighed deeply, looking into his water glass. What the hell was Barney doing with HYDRA? Had he been with them all these years? And why did they snatch Jen? None of it made any sense, and while the Winter Soldier might be able to give him some answers, he wasn't allowed to ask the damn _questions_.

Frustrated, Clint stood, noticing the way Barnes was suddenly alert at his movement. "Can I wash up for you, Diana?" he asked.

"Thank you," Diana said, surprised, "but I'll just put everything in the dishwasher." She grinned. "It might be an old-fashioned house but Aunt Vivi likes her modern comforts." She opened a wooden cupboard door to reveal a thoroughly modern dishwasher and started to put the plates into it.

"In that case, I'm going to get some sleep." Clint cast a wary look at Barnes, just finishing his last slice of pizza. "You'll be all right with him?" He didn't bother lowering his voice. Barnes would hear him anyway.

"I reckon so," Diana nodded, not letting Clint see that she was nervous, though she suspected he guessed at it anyway. "Get some rest. What time will your friends arrive tomorrow? And how are they going to get here?"

"Steve said they'd arrive in Brisbane around dawn. There wasn't room in that paddock for another chopper to land, was there?"

"Not really," Diana admitted. "I'm on the only flat spot. I could fly down and get them?"

"If they're spotted arriving, that might attract attention and your chopper might be tracked on the way back," Clint mused. He thought about it for a minute. "I know: I can give them the GPS co-ordinates of this place, then they could take off again out of Brisbane like it was just a refuelling stop – Steve wouldn't even have to get out of the plane – and parachute down. We're close enough to the city that they'd still be at a reasonably low altitude."

"That is a good plan," Barnes rumbled, surprising them both. "Tell your friend to file a flight path for Perth. It would be logical to refuel in Brisbane if that was their destination."

Clint looked at Bucky for a long moment, then nodded, slipping his phone out of his pocket. "I'll make the call." He went outside onto the verandah, and came back in a few minutes later. "All arranged. Steve's gonna give me a heads up ten minutes before they drop, so you and I can go out and see them down, okay?"

"Acknowledged," Barnes responded.

"Get some sleep, Clint," Diana said, sensing that he was still wavering about leaving her alone with the Winter Soldier. "He's not gonna hurt me."

To her surprise, Clint shook her head. "Don't need to sleep. Got some a couple of days ago." He grinned at her startled look. "I'm enhanced, Diana. Sleep's not as necessary for me as it is for some people. Him too, probably," he nodded towards Barnes, "but he looks ready to drop. Get some rest, Barnes," he said firmly. "I'll wake you when it's time. I'm gonna go out and patrol."

"What is it with you men and standing guard?" Diana sighed. "It's dark out there and you can't possibly circle the whole property, it's massive."

"Didn't plan to. I'll set up a perimeter a couple of hundred yards out. We have no long-range weapons that can defend beyond that anyway." Clint checked in on Jen, found her sleeping, and closed the bedroom door quietly. He watched as Diana pulled out the sofa-bed for Barnes and handed him a blanket and pillow that were stored in the ottoman-cum-coffee table before disappearing into the bathroom.

"If you hurt Jen or Diana," Clint warned quietly, his eyes locked with Barnes', "I will hunt you to the ends of the earth for vengeance. They are _both_ under my protection."

"I will not harm either of them, Barton," Barnes dropped his head, hiding his eyes behind the curtain of black hair. "I would rather not hurt anyone ever again, and certainly not a defenceless woman. There's been too much hurting. Too much killing."

"I'm hearing you loud and clear on that one," Clint muttered before heading out into the night.

Diana came out of the bathroom a few minutes later to find Bucky standing by his makeshift bed, watching her. She paused at the bottom of the narrow flight of stairs into the loft.

"Sleep," she pointed at him, then the bed. "We need you rested. Go to sleep."

He lay down obediently and closed his eyes, and Diana shook her head and slipped up the stairs as quietly as she could. _That man needs some serious help_.

**Oh, Bucky. So broken. So beautiful. What are we going to do with him?**


	8. Chapter 6 - New And Old Friends

**Chapter 6 – New and Old Friends**

It was a little after dawn when Clint came back into the cabin, but as silently as he moved, Barnes snapped awake as soon as the door opened, and was on his feet less than a second later.

"I got the call," Clint said quietly. "They're taking off from Brisbane now and will be dropping in a few minutes."

Barnes nodded and reached for his combat leathers.

"You don't have to put those on. There isn't going to be a fight. These are friends, Bucky; your old friend Steve and a guy called Sam Wilson he works with."

Barnes paused, and in the end just settled for pulling on his pants and boots. He left the blue T-shirt on.

Clint's phone beeped. "Come on. They're about to jump."

They heard the plane before they saw it, a silver shape against the clear blue sky, and then two small dots separating, falling, eventually turning larger as the parachute canopies popped open. Clint had used his phone to give them the GPS co-ordinates of the open area in front of the house, which, although it was too sloped for a chopper to land, made a fair landing field for parachutists. Steve and his friend were carrying packs on long lines, Clint saw, which hit the ground first.

Sam Wilson was a big guy, not as big as Steve but over six foot, black and muscular. He landed with the ease of a seasoned parachutist, gracefully stepping clear of the collapsing chute. It had, however, obviously been a while since Steve parachuted, and Captain America managed to tangle himself up as he hit the ground, tripping over the pack line and landing flat on his face.

Barnes actually let out a snort of what might almost have been laughter. Clint and Wilson both cracked up as Steve scrambled up, red-faced.

"Goddamn it!"

"Captain America, such language," Clint chided, suppressing his chuckles.

"Oh, shut it," Steve scowled in his direction. He wasn't wearing the suit, of course; both he and Wilson were wearing plain woodland camouflage fatigues without insignia. Finally getting free of the messy parachute, Steve came over, clasped Clint's hand and drew him roughly into a one-armed hug. "Glad you and Jen are all right," he said, but all the while, his eyes never left Barnes. "This is Sam Wilson. AKA The Falcon. He's retired pararescue, works with the VA now. A good friend of mine."

Ostensibly, the words were for Clint, but Steve was just as obviously trying to put Barnes at ease. The Winter Soldier stood about ten feet distant, poised and ready, watchful for any sudden moves. His blue eyes tracked Wilson as he came forward slowly and shook Clint's hand.

"Good to meet you, Barton. I've heard great things about you, Steve and Natasha both sing your praises."

Clint smiled, liking the guy immediately. "Call me Clint."

"Sam." Wilson smiled, a wide white grin in his dark face, and turned to face Barnes. "And you must be Bucky." He kept the smile in place, but made no move forward. "I've heard a lot about you too."

Barnes frowned, shaking his head slightly. "I don't know any Bucky."

Steve made a small sound of distress, and Barnes looked at him. "You were on the bridge."

"Yes. Bucky – don't you remember? I'm Steve. Steve Rogers. We grew up together, in Brooklyn. You were my best friend."

"Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes," Sam said steadily. "You were lost in action, presumed dead, in 1944. You fell from a train. The first recorded sighting of the Winter Soldier was about twelve years later. Did it take all that time for them to reprogram you, to build you a new arm?"

Barnes almost staggered, his metal hand going to his brow. "I – I – I don't want to go back in the chair!"

They were all wary of touching him in case he lashed out, but it was the sound of the cabin door opening that triggered a reaction. Barnes wheeled around, hands groping for a weapon, only to freeze when he saw Diana step out onto the verandah. And, like a frightened child, he ran straight to her, leaping up the steps, falling to his knees in front of her, pressing his face against her stomach, wrapping his arms around her tightly.

"Please don't let them put me back in the chair!" he begged.

Diana froze and nearly flinched back when he came at her at such speed, but the look of pure terror on his face held her still, and she was glad she hadn't moved when he flung himself at her and begged in such a plaintive voice.

"It's all right," she said gently, instinctively petting his tangled dark hair. "I won't let them hurt you." What _she_ could do to prevent it, she couldn't imagine, but it had obviously been the right thing to say, because he slowly relaxed against her, the painfully tight grip around her waist easing, though he stayed very still as she continued to smooth his hair with both hands.

"You did tell me that Bucky always had an eye for beautiful women," Sam said dryly to Steve, after a moment in which they had all stared with shock.

Steve was too distressed to laugh, but Clint let out a chuckle and eyed Sam with a grin, thinking that he and Wilson were gonna get on well.

"That's Diana," Clint said as they stood watching the odd tableau for a little while longer. "Her aunt owns this place, and it's her chopper in the clearing down below. She's a friend of Jacques and Jen, Jacques got on to her and she flew me down from Bowen and helped me rescue Jen."

"Then she's certainly a friend of ours," Steve said.

"And hot. Is she single?" Sam added.

"I don't know – I think so. She's widowed." Clint really hadn't looked at Diana that way, but taking a proper look now, he supposed he could see what Sam meant. She was medium height, about five foot six, and now that she was wearing jeans and a simple vest top, rather than the baggy khakis she'd had on yesterday, he could see that she was nicely built. Long slim legs, curvy hips, narrow waist, and pleasantly stacked. Plus she'd had her hair stuffed under a cap almost all yesterday, and now it was down he could see it was nearly waist length, curly and a rich chestnut colour.

"She looks too young to be widowed," Sam scoffed.

"She's the same age as Jen, about twenty-six, and she was married to a Special Forces soldier who died in Afghanistan, so show a little respect," Clint said firmly.

Both Sam and Steve sucked in a sharp breath. "Sorry," Sam said at once. "No insult intended."

Clint knew they'd treat Diana with the utmost respect for being a soldier's widow. Not that Steve wouldn't have anyway, that was how Cap was, but he didn't know Sam and the Falcon seemed like he might be a bit of a player. The two of them started to move, rolling parachutes and gathering their packs, and Clint helped, delighted to discover one of the packs contained his folding bow and three quivers full of arrows as well as a sniper rifle and some ammo.

"Oh, sweetheart," he crooned, caressing his bow. "I missed you."

Sam and Steve exchanged grins behind the archer's back. The travelling Clint and Jen had been doing had meant no weapons bar Clint's ceramic knives, and he'd lost those in the boat explosion. Obviously the archer had been suffering a certain amount of withdrawal. Sam had struggled to believe Steve's tales of Hawkeye's accuracy, but he believed now as Clint snapped the bow together, took an arrow and made a ridiculously long shot into one of the stumps holding up the cabin verandah.

"Aah," Clint sighed with happy satisfaction, tempted to shoot off a few more arrows, but they really didn't have time to waste. He gathered some gear and went to retrieve the arrow.

Steve and Sam dumped everything at the bottom of the steps and climbed to the verandah slowly, not wanting to startle Bucky. He moved at the sound of their boots on the timber, scrambling to his feet and pushing Diana behind him, obviously ready to defend her even though he'd been the one begging _her_ for protection.

"It's all right, Bucky," Diana pushed gently past him. "These are friends. Welcome," she held out her hand. "I'm Diana Konrad."

"Steve Rogers, ma'am, it's a pleasure to meet you, and thank you for helping our friends out," Steve said sincerely, gracing her with his brightest smile. She smiled in response, a little stunned by his good looks, and turned to Sam.

"Sam Wilson, Ms. Konrad."

"Please call me Diana." Wow, this guy was good-looking too, beautifully chiselled cheekbones and dark, dark eyes. Diana hadn't seen this many handsome, built guys in one place since Paul was alive and she used to go to SAS events with him. And even then, _some_ of them were ugly. But here were four absolutely gorgeous specimens. And even though Clint was married – and obviously devoted – to Jen, there was no law against window-shopping. She grinned wider, her eyes dancing with amusement. _Raining men, indeed!_

Sam shook her hand with a smile, thinking, _damn, she was even prettier up close_. Hazel eyes, a delightfully snub nose with a spray of freckles across it, and a full soft mouth that would probably have him thinking bad thoughts about it for a while. Sam shook himself mentally. Damn, but he really needed to get laid! _And keep your mind on the job, Wilson!_

Sam looked at Bucky then, looming silent and watchful at Diana's shoulder. "We're here to help, Barnes," he said quietly. "Shall we go inside, and we can talk?"

Bucky said nothing, but Diana turned and put a hand on his arm gently. "Come on. I started a pot of coffee." He let her coax him inside, and placed himself warily in the kitchen, where he could watch her every move.

Jen came out of the bedroom then, wearing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Fortunately it seemed Diana's Aunt Vivi wasn't much bigger than she was. There wasn't a bra that would fit her, though, and she couldn't bear to put her bikini top back on right now, so she hoped no one would notice. Although of course Clint did, his eyes dropping to her chest and his grin widening as she went to his side. A heavenly smell of coffee filled the cabin as Diana started pouring the brew into large mugs.

"Jen," Steve stooped to kiss her cheek, smiling at her warmly. "I'm so glad you're all right."

"Good to see you again too," she returned the embrace gladly. "How's Tasha?"

A shadow crossed his face. "She's all right. Holding the fort at home."

"I'm glad to hear it," Jen turned to his friend, who had been watching with obvious amusement at the size contrast between Steve and Jen. "Hello, I'm Jen Barton."

"Sam Wilson. Relieved you don't need rescuing," he drawled, shaking her hand. _Wow, another stunning woman, even if she was tiny. Barton was a lucky man._ It was an effort to keep his eyes off her obviously braless chest, but since Sam didn't want an arrow in his ass one day he managed it. Somehow.

"She's a self-rescuing princess," Clint said with a grin, putting his arm around Jen's waist. "She managed to knock Barney unconscious, and convince Barnes he needed to protect her and get her out of there. She'd have got out on her own two feet if she hadn't fallen down the stairs. As it was, I was just about to storm the building when Barnes carried her out."

Steve and Sam both looked impressed, though Sam then looked concerned. "Have you seen a doctor about the fall?"

Jen shook her head. "I'm fine," but Sam's sharp eyes didn't mess the hand she placed protectively over her stomach. Jen caught him looking, her eyes widened and she gave a quick shake of her head, which Sam correctly interpreted to mean _don't say a word, my husband doesn't know yet_. He gave her raised eyebrows in return and she looked away a bit sheepishly.

"We need to get out of here, and soon," Steve cut off the introductions abruptly, after taking a swig of his coffee. "We have to assume HYDRA have a tracker on Bucky somewhere. They won't come by air as Jacques has called in pretty much every favour ever owed him and the Australian Air Force are going to be conducting exercises all up this valley this morning. We looked at the maps and the terrain, and land is a tough proposition as well for them, so we've got a little bit of time to get out."

"Wait," Clint had stuck on something. "A tracker?" _How the hell had he not thought of that already?!_

"Yes," Barnes said, "It's in my arm." He tapped fingers on the elbow of his mechanical arm, and they all looked at it silently and then at each other.

"We're not leaving him behind," Steve said to Clint's concerned expression. "_I'm_ not."

"I can only carry four at a time in the chopper," Diana said.

"If we leave this valley in the chopper with the tracker still in Barnes' arm, we lose aerial protection," Sam pointed out.

"Then we get it out," Jen said, shrugging. "Diana? Toolkit."

"Workshop under the house," Diana said, putting down her mug. "Come on, Barnes, let's go," she grabbed Bucky's mechanical hand and tugged on it, pulling him towards the door.

"It's a very complex piece of equipment," Steve started anxiously.

"And Jen is a very good engineer who's been working with Tony Stark," Clint pointed out.

"And Diana's one of the best bush mechanics in Australia," Jen laughed, and the two women headed out the door, Diana towing a reluctant-looking Bucky.

"Bush mechanic?" Steve didn't understand.

"Like a field engineer. The kind of person who can keep things running with elastic bands and duct tape," Clint translated the Australian term.

"I hope she's not gonna fix that arm with elastic bands and duct tape," Sam said, and all three of them grabbed their coffee mugs and hurried off to go see.

It turned out there was quite a well-equipped little workshop under the house, tools hanging on pegboard, spare parts neatly piled on shelves. Jen and Diana shoved Bucky into a seat at the workbench and Diana angled some lights so they could get a good look at his arm.

"The first panel comes off here," Bucky rather hesitantly showed Diana a pair of tiny screws inside the elbow, and she at once selected a screwdriver from a drawer and set to.

"So," Sam said after a few moments as they watched the women work, "if HYDRA are gonna come in by road, and we can only get four out by air, what's the plan?"

"Technically we could get five out by air," Steve gave Sam a look which Clint didn't understand, "but as I'm not leaving Bucky behind the point is moot."

"I can ride out," Diana said, still intent on Bucky's arm. "There's plenty of folks around here who know me, I can easily hide out for days, even weeks if I need to. Clint can fly the chopper."

"I don't think my wingpack is repaired well enough to get out," Sam admitted to Steve, "not with these high mountains. I'd have to climb up high and then glide out. I could stay with Diana. They won't be looking for me."

"No offense," Diana said, straightening and looking at Sam, "please, please don't take offense, but this is a primarily white-populated area. Australia has a very small black population, most of them indigenous Aboriginal, which you're clearly not. You'd be noticed. People would remember you, maybe mention you in casual conversation, which is the last thing we need if we're staying covert."

"No offense taken," Sam said amiably, knowing she was correct. "Probably a good thing anyway, because I've just realised that when you said _ride out_ you meant on a horse, and I've never been on one in my life." That made them all grin, despite the seriousness of the situation.

"I could stay with Di…" Jen started, and Clint cut her off instantly.

"Don't even think about it. I'm not letting you out of my sight. Not after yesterday." She gave him a Look, and then couldn't help smiling at his mulish expression.

"I guess it's me then," Steve said, clearly unhappy about having to split up with Bucky. "Although I've never been on a horse either, I guess I can figure it out…"

"No," Bucky said. They all looked at him. "What if there's a second tracker? Subcutaneous or something?" Jen had just disconnected a small piece of circuitry from the inside of his arm with a satisfied sound. "I don't remember one being put in but that doesn't mean there isn't one. If I go up in that chopper we could all be shot out of the sky with no way of defending ourselves."

There was silence as they all absorbed that. Then Jen handed the bit of circuitry to Diana, who promptly put it on the concrete floor and smacked it with a hammer until there was nothing left but dust.

"He's right," Clint said with a sigh. "Diana – I hate to ask, we could be putting you in terrible danger if there's another tracker. You could fly out and maybe Steve could stay with Bucky…"

"Won't work," Diana said, taking another look into Bucky's arm with Jen. "I know this valley. The people here. And if they come after him, well, sorry," she straightened up and gave Steve a rueful grin, "but I _will_ leave him and disappear into the bush."

"Good," Bucky said, "because you'd only get yourself killed otherwise."

Steve was biting at his thumbnail, looking concerned. It was Clint who finally, gently pointed out that it was their only real option for getting everyone away clean. They couldn't risk the road. HYDRA could already be on the way. Yes, they _could_ fight their way out, and if Jen and Diana hadn't been with them Clint would probably have proposed that exact tactic. But he wouldn't deliberately take them into danger, even though he knew Jen would smack him if he voiced that thought aloud.

"Right," Steve said as Jen screwed the panel back onto Bucky's arm and he flexed his fingers, testing it. "Let's move out, then. Grab whatever you need. Diana…" he hesitated. "How are you with a gun?" His eyes flickered to Bucky.

"Pretty good with handguns, haven't used a rifle in years," she said, as they started picking through the packs Steve and Sam had brought. He handed her a Glock in a holster and three magazines. "That'll do." She unfastened her belt and put the holster on it. "Highly illegal here, but we're gonna stay out of sight as much as possible."

Bucky had pounced on the sniper rifle with an eager expression, making Steve grin. He paused, and then said "Hey Buck, remember that shot you made in Austria once, with the Commandos? I never saw anyone shoot like that till I met Barton here."

Bucky paused, his brow furrowed. "It's kind of cloudy," he said at last, but Steve seemed satisfied with that, grinning happily.

Within half an hour they were on the move, everything either hidden or packed away so that there was no sign of occupation. Diana had reluctantly handed the keys to her chopper over to Clint, who had promised to take care of her baby with an amused glint in his eye. They were going to fly south to Amberley Air Force Base, probably much safer than Brisbane Airport, and get a military transport to Townsville Base in the far north, arranging for Stark's jet to collect them there. Then it was a short(ish) hop to Singapore, Tokyo or any of a dozen other destinations.

"I'll call you when I think we're in the clear," Diana said. "You'll need to arrange pickup. And travel documents for us. Somehow I don't think you've got passports ready for us anyway, huh?" Steve and Sam had brought spare travel documents for Jen and Clint, so obviously they had access to be able to get them.

"It'll take at least three days," Steve warned, "we have to get back to the US, arrange the documents and come back again."

"Should be at least that long before I reckon we're in the clear," Diana shrugged. "The last place they'll have a fix on is here. With any luck they're going to assume it's just the four of us and that you two aren't in the picture, so they won't be looking for us to have left on horseback." She glanced over her shoulder. Bucky was waiting at the treeline with the two horses she'd caught and saddled for them to ride.

"I still wish you'd kept your phone," Steve fretted.

"Might be tracked," Diana said, "it's been co-located with Bucky's tracker for too many hours."

They'd all reluctantly tossed their phones into one of the dams for that very reason, when Jen pointed it out. Diana memorised a number Clint gave her which he said would get her through to someone called Jarvis, who would be able to find them when they got new phones.

"We gotta move," Sam said impatiently. "Come _on_, guys!"

Diana jogged back to the treeline, took her horse's reins from Bucky and watched as Clint gently lifted the chopper off the ground. He gave her a thumbs-up and a grin before swinging towards the south and buzzing away above the trees.

**Left alone with Bucky, now what's Diana to do with him?**

**No, not THAT, y'all have filthy minds!**


	9. Chapter 7 - Cowboys And Jillaroos

**Chapter 7 – Cowboys and Jillaroos**

"Come on then, cowboy," Diana swung easily into the saddle. "Let's see how you ride."

"Not a cowboy," Barnes murmured in response. He was already astride his bay mare, and Diana checked his seat with an experienced eye. The rifle was strapped across the saddlebags behind him, and he had a knife on each hip.

Sam had provided spare clothes from his pack and Bucky now wore dark grey cargo pants and a lighter grey long-sleeved T-shirt, both a better fit than the clothes Diana had found him, with a hat crammed down over his dark hair.

He'd dumped his boots in the dam and taken Sam's, in case there was a tracker in those too. Not a single thing that belonged to the Winter Soldier remained with him, with the sole exception of his metal arm, completely covered by the shirt and a pair of gloves also provided by Sam. Poor Sam was travelling barefoot, but better him than Bucky, since Diana knew they had some rough ground to cover in the next few days.

Jen had promised to call Aunt Vivi when they landed and tell her to stay away for an extra few days. And if HYDRA did any damage to the property, Steve and Clint had promised that Stark would make good. Diana didn't spare any time worrying about it, though. They needed to get away, and fast. She led Bucky through the trees confidently, despite the lack of a trail, knowing exactly where she was going.

"We're heading south," Bucky said finally after half an hour or so. "I thought you said the lake blocked the route out to the south and east?"

"Technically, yes. The ground's steep and rough and there's no road through there. However," Diana grinned over her shoulder at him, "you _can_ get through on horseback. And once we're south of the dam wall, we can cross the river and head for a tiny little airfield I know of where a friend of mine has a light plane. We've only got to cross one, very quiet, road to get there. It's close to thirty miles and we won't make it in a day, but we'll get there."

Bucky said nothing, but he did give her an admiring look. Diana grinned back at him and turned back to navigating her way through the trees. Without GPS, she was going to have to pay attention to the sun and the old map she'd swiped from the cabin. Regular glimpses of the lake helped to orient her, though; it was a distinctive shape and she could easily place herself relative to it on the map.

They headed steadily south. Around noon, they rounded an arm of the lake and Diana checked her map and set their course south-west. The next creek they came across, she dismounted.

"Let the horses drink," she said, "and we'll eat." They had both filled several water bottles before leaving, and she'd grabbed what trail rations she could find and a couple of sleeping bags. She handed Bucky a couple of muesli bars and they ate in silence.

"Come on then, cowgirl," Bucky said after they had let the horses graze for a few minutes. Diana looked at him with surprise. He seemed much more 'normal' this morning, after a night's sleep, and she wondered how long he was normally forced to operate without rest, and how long it had been since he was last 'reprogrammed'. Steve and Sam had warned her not to ask any questions like that of Bucky in case she triggered something, but it was hard not to.

"We call them jillaroos here," she swung back into the saddle, gathering her reins. "Jackaroos and jillaroos, instead of cowboys and cowgirls."

That made Bucky smile again, causing Diana to have to firmly slap down her libido. _Damn_, but he was gorgeous when he smiled! She turned her back on him resolutely and clicked her tongue to urge her horse forward.

At last, late in the afternoon, Diana spied the dam wall in the distance. She checked her watch, checked the map, and nodded to herself. "We're gonna stop soon," she called back to Bucky. "Camp for the night."

"Why?" he nudged his horse up alongside hers. It had been no hardship to follow all afternoon, watching her shapely butt shift in the saddle. "There's still plenty of daylight left."

"No, there isn't," she contradicted. "Once the sun drops below those mountains, it'll go dark down here in the valley pretty darn fast. I'm not having one of the horses break a leg. We'll get to the airfield tomorrow in any case. And besides," she turned her horse eastwards, "I know where we can find shelter."

"One of your friends?" he rode up alongside her again, ducking a low tree branch.

"No. No one lives this far south along the lake. But there's a place here I used to camp with my cousins when we were kids." She said no more as they rode another mile or so, and then she stopped. "We'll leave the horses here, there's grazing for them, and water," she pointed at a small rivulet of water. "The camp's not far."

They took care of the horses, tethering them on long lines so they could graze, and then Bucky followed Diana, both of them carrying their packs. The ground became quickly steeper and rougher, and then Diana disappeared. One moment she was there, the next gone.

"Diana!" he yelled, almost freaking out.

"Here!" she popped out from a barely-visible fold in the rocks. "Sorry, should have warned you!"

Breathing slowly to calm himself, he followed her and found himself in an almost-cave. It was really just a crack in the cliff-face they'd been following, but there was an overhang at the back of it, making a sort of cave which would keep them dry if it rained, and he thought that perhaps there'd once been a waterfall here, because the ground was sandy.

"This do?" Diana dumped her pack on the ground, grinning. "We used to camp here often. You can even light a fire: the cleft acts as a natural chimney. Not that we're going to tonight, in case someone's looking for us," she added hastily when Bucky frowned.

They unrolled their sleeping bags and sat down on them, and Bucky looked out through the cleft and frowned to see that Diana had been right. The sun was just dropping below the mountains across the lake to the west, and once it was gone everything seemed shadowy and twilight, darkening quickly. They'd reached camp just about in time, it would have been dangerous to the horses to carry on.

Diana dug in her pack for food, thinking that it was going to be a bloody long night. She couldn't think of a thing to say to him, and he certainly didn't seem inclined to start a conversation.

"Thank you," he murmured as she passed him a box of crackers. Diana really hadn't been able to find much in the way of food that they could take with them, so dinner was a shared muddle of canned corned beef, crackers and baked beans eaten straight from the tin with a spoon. Bucky, however, seemed to enjoy it just as much as a gourmet meal.

Afterwards, Diana wrapped the rubbish in a plastic bag and stowed it in her pack to take away with them. She realised she needed to relieve herself before she tried to sleep, so she got to her feet to leave the little cave and fell down again with a cry of agony as her knees buckled under her.

"What is it?" Bucky caught her before she hit the ground, rolling her over, shielding her with his body, looking over his shoulder, scanning the night, his whole body tense. "Were you shot at?" If there was someone out there with a long-range rifle and a night scope they were done for…

"No!" she half-laughed. "I've just not spent that many hours together on a horse in years and my legs have frozen up!"

He went very still, and then, to her astonishment, he began to laugh. It sounded sort of rusty at first, like he hadn't laughed in a long time, and eventually built up to full-grown chortles.

"Bucky?" she said tentatively after a couple of minutes when he was still laughing. He was almost crushing her and she could hardly move, both arms pinned by her sides. "Bucky – are you all right?"

"I'm sorry," he said, managing to choke back the laughter. "Sorry. It just seemed – so _normal_ a thing to have a problem with. Is this what my life is going to be now? Normal things?"

She sort of understood, from what Clint had told her and what she'd picked up hearing them talk that morning. "Everyone has a different definition of normal. People have different stuff they have to deal with every day and some of it might seem trivial to you but it's important to them. Like, right now you're really fucking heavy and my right arm is going to sleep."

For a moment he stared at her. She could barely see him: it was almost fully dark and although the moon had risen, very little of its light was penetrating to the back of the little cave. There was just a faint glimmer of the whites of his eyes in the darkness.

"I'm sorry," he said again, and rolled off her, coming to his feet easily, holding out his hand. "Let me help you up. Why were you getting up?"

"I was planning to go water the bushes before I try and catch some zeds," she said drily, taking his hand. He steadied her as they moved to the mouth of the cleft, and a good thing too because her legs hurt like hell. Ooh, tomorrow was gonna be a stone cold _bitch_.

"Here," he helped her over the rough ground to a small patch of scrub. "I'll go check on the horses. Be back soon." And he was slipping through the night, a soundless shadow. Diana shook her head as she watched the dark shape disappear into the bush. Well, at least he was being a gentleman.

She was scrambling awkwardly back up to the cleft when he came silently up behind her, startling a shriek out of her when his hand settled on her shoulder. How the _hell_ did he move that quietly over these loose rocks?

"I'm sorry," he said, and she thought that he seemed to use that phrase a lot. Those bastards that used to control him probably used to blame him for every tiny little thing that went wrong, even when it was their incompetence that caused the problems.

"It's all right," she said, when her breathing had returned to normal, letting him help her into the cave again. She kicked off her boots and wriggled into her sleeping bag. "You just startled me. Please could you make a noise or say my name when you're approaching, so I don't get a surprise like that again?"

"I will," he promised, and then he was squatting beside her. "Will you let me help you?"

"Er – with what?"

"Your leg cramps. You will be very sore tomorrow. I can help you with massage: work some of the lactic acid out of your muscles."

She sure as shit wasn't going to turn that offer down. Her legs – and hips – we killing her. "Sure, thanks!"

He hesitated when she wriggled out of her bag. "It will be more effective if you take your jeans off."

"That's not just a line to get in my pants, huh?" Diana said, but she was already unzipping her jeans. He'd not given her so much as a speculative look all day.

"That wasn't the plan," he said, and she thought she detected a thread of amusement in his low voice. "But if you're offering…"

"I'm not!" _Oh shit, and she'd already taken her jeans off!_

"Relax," and he did actually openly laugh now. "I'm not gonna jump you."

"Glad you've found your sense of humour," she turned over when he urged her, and then bit off a groan as his hands dug firmly into her thigh muscles.

"Yes," he stilled for a moment.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to dig up any unpleasant memories."

He was quiet for several long minutes, the only sound in the cave Diana choking back groans as he rubbed the knots out of her aching legs. His metal hand felt cool, but he used it with no more force than the flesh one.

"The memories aren't all bad," Bucky said at last. "Seeing – Steve – again, has opened up parts of my mind that have been closed for a long time. It's like there's lots of doors in my head," he tried to explain, "and I don't have the keys to get into them. Steve opened a door and behind it there's all my memories of who I used to be, before – well, before. I'm still – assimilating them."

"So right now," Diana said after a moment of thinking about it, "you're actually more the Bucky Barnes who fell off a train in 1945, than you are the Winter Soldier, because most of _his_ memories are locked up?" She really, really wasn't supposed to be talking to him about this shit. But he'd started it – well, sort of. And she didn't think he was going to hurt her just for talking. Shit, she hoped not, anyway.

"Yes," Bucky agreed. "Not all of the Soldier stuff is locked up behind doors, though. All the training and the skills is out in the open, where I can access it all the time. But all except the most recent mission is locked up."

"It's not going to do them much good to debrief you, is it?" Diana asked after thinking about that for a little while. "Not if you have no idea what missions you've been on."

"I suppose not." He finished massaging her legs and handed her jeans back to her. "I probably won't be much use to them. They'll just lock me in a cell and throw away the key. Make sure I can't be used against anyone else. Or a lunatic asylum." He shuddered slightly at the thought of that, and Diana did too, thinking of what asylums had been like in the early twentieth century, what Barnes probably assumed they still were. Not much better than torture chambers, from what she knew.

"That wouldn't be fair," she said fiercely. "James Buchanan Barnes is a war hero, and if they're gonna lock you up, I think they'll have to put Captain America in the cell next door."

He didn't say anything. Just wriggled into his own sleeping bag and lay down.

It didn't take Diana long to fall asleep. She was exhausted: it had been a long couple of days. But she was woken, several hours later, by a horrible sound, like a soul in agony. Bucky was screaming, thrashing around in his sleeping bag, his metal arm ripping out through the side and clanging on the rocks.

"Bucky!" she shouted, not daring to get close. He could put her into next week with that arm if he hit her, even by accident. "Barnes! Bucky Barnes, wake up!"

He startled awake, shuddering, on his feet. She thought he'd pulled a knife but really couldn't see.

"You were having a nightmare," Diana said calmly. "I'm Diana Konrad, do you remember me? Do you know where we are?"

"Yes," he stilled. Sank back down. There was a slight metallic sound and then a weary sigh. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"It's all right." She peered at him, trying to see. Damn, but it was dark. She sighed and reached for her pack, fumbling in the side pocket until she found the tiny penlight she'd stuffed there, cursing herself for burying the big flashlight deep in the pack. The penlight barely made a glimmer in the dark cave, but with it she could see Bucky, squatting beside his ripped sleeping bag with his hair hanging over his face. "Do you want to talk about it?"

This was bringing back memories for Diana too. Paul had suffered nightmares after his tours; she'd lost count of the nights she'd sat in their bed with his head in her lap, stroking his hair until he slept again. He would never talk about what burdened him, only saying that he didn't want to put any of his darkness in her soul, because she was the only light he had to hold on to.

"Yes," Bucky said after a moment, to her surprise. "If you don't mind listening."

"I don't mind. But it's bloody cold so would you come over here and sit by me? I don't bite."

Bucky gathered the tattered sleeping bag and came over warily. He put his legs back in the bag and lay down beside her. Diana shifted closer and put her head against his shoulder, aligning her legs against his. Warmth immediately radiated into her.

"Thanks," she said, clicking off the penlight.

Bucky didn't say anything for such a long time that Diana was actually drifting back off to sleep again. And then finally, he broke the silence with a few low words.

"I remembered the train."

"Oh, shit," she startled awake. "Because I mentioned it?"

"Perhaps. Don't beat yourself up about it." He nudged at her with his shoulder gently. "I told you, Steve opened that door. I just had to assimilate all the memories. That one was going to come back eventually."

"You were screaming," Diana said quietly after a moment. "No words. Just – one long, drawn-out scream."

"Falling," he said succinctly. "It was – a long way down. I don't know how the hell I survived it with the loss of nothing but one arm."

"Are there any more _Bucky_ memories after that?" Diana asked tentatively.

"No," he said, and then qualified, "not really. It's vague. Some sort of hospital. A lot of pain. Needles. And then nothing." There was silence between them for several long moments. "I guess it must have been when Steve broke us out of that place in Bavaria."

He was obviously jumping around in his memories. "A place in Bavaria?" Diana prompted.

"Yeah – there was a HYDRA research lab. Me and several of my regiment, the Howling Commandos – we'd been taken prisoner. They injected me with some weird shit. They were trying to replicate the super soldier serum that was used to make Steve into Captain America. Something must have worked on me, because no ordinary man could have survived that fall. Plus – I was wounded a few days ago, in this time – broke my human arm, I think – and now it's fine."

Oh. He wasn't actually jumping about in his memories at all. "I don't think you'd still be this young and handsome in 2014 if you were ordinary," Diana nudged him, trying to cheer him again.

"I've been frozen," he said flatly. "Cryogenically. And repeatedly."

"Okay," she said patiently, "but seriously, you look no more than thirty. How old were you when you fell off the train?"

"I was born in 1917," he said slowly, "so – twenty-eight?"

"They haven't kept you frozen for all but a couple of years, Bucky. Not considering the number of missions Clint told me you'd been mentioned as having a hand in, plus God only knows how many more behind the Iron Curtain. You haven't aged like normal people do."

"Fuck," he sighed, and then, to Diana's surprise, he wriggled down beside her. "Please," he said quietly, "would you give me a hug? It's been a really, really long time since anyone just held me, I think. I miss that."

She put her arms around him after a brief hesitation, and he wrapped his around her. He didn't squeeze, just tucked his head into the curve of her neck and breathed quietly. He seemed tense, as though he was waiting for her to pull back. Diana waited until he began to relax. Just a little. And then _he_ drew back with a murmured thanks.

"You're welcome," she said quietly. "Do you think you can sleep again?"

"Probably not." He took her wrist and checked her watch. "Only a couple of hours until dawn."

"We still can't move on until daylight. The horses need rest too."

He lay quiet and still beside her, obviously not wanting to talk any more, but also obviously too tense to sleep. Diana hesitated, and then she reached out. "Turn over and put your back to me."

Bucky obeyed, and Diana gently began to comb her fingers through his hair, teasing out and smoothing the tangled strands. Very quietly, almost under her breath at first, she began to sing. It had taken her several long minutes to think of a song he'd know, something from the forties or earlier.

"Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high…"

"You have a lovely voice," Bucky murmured when she finished the song.

"Thank you." Diana knew she did. Not good enough to be a professional, but certainly good enough to entertain her friends when she had her guitar with her. Singing _a capella_, lying down in a cave, was a bit trickier, but Bucky wouldn't care if she missed a note.

"Please would you sing something else?" he entreated. "That was so nice. Familiar. I remember the movie."

Diana smiled: that was, of course, why she had chosen the song. "I don't know many other songs you'd remember," she apologised. "Most of my repertoire is modern. We'll have to catch you up."

"I don't mind. Whatever you want to sing." Almost inaudibly, he added "My mom used to sing me to sleep, sometimes. Before she died."

"Well," Diana had a sudden thought. "Perhaps she sang you this one. And I reckon you should take the lyrics to heart."

Tears gathered in Bucky's eyes as the words washed over him in Diana's soft, sweet soprano, her hands still gently combing through his hair.

_Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me_

_I once was lost, but now am found. Was blind, but now I see._

_T'was Grace that taught my heart to fear and Grace, my fears relieved_

_How precious did that Grace appear the hour I first believed._

_Through many dangers, toils and snares I have already come;_

'_Tis Grace that brought me safe thus far and Grace will lead me home._

_And Grace will lead me home._

He slept.

**Author's Note: In my head, Diana sounds like Hayley Westenra singing Amazing Grace: there's a fabulous **_**a capella**_** YouTube clip that is enough to make anyone cry. (She does an amazing Somewhere Over The Rainbow too).**

**Anyway, I hope this chapter explains why Bucky seems a bit OOC and very un-Winter-Soldier-ish. Seriously I couldn't write a romance for him unless I did take him back to being more 1940's Bucky, in his head at least. I don't think Soldier would actually **_**have**_** a sex drive.**

**Comments are always appreciated!**


	10. Chapter 8 - The Morning After

**Chapter 8 – The Morning After The Night Before**

Diana woke when Bucky did. Somehow, he'd turned back over and put his arms around her in the night, and she was now curled up to him with her head on his chest. _At least she was warm_, she thought fuzzily as he moved his arm carefully off her back. Opening her eyes blearily, she realised she could see him. There was a faint grey light in the cave.

"Oh, fuck," she scrambled up, struggling out of her sleeping back. "Sun's well up, we need to go."

"What?" he blinked at her, nevertheless quickly gathering their things, yanking his boots on. "It's barely dawn."

"We're in a west-facing cave, Bucky: there's full sunlight down there on the valley floor!"

"How long will it take to get to the airfield?" he asked as they headed down to get the horses.

"Depends," she said crisply, and then seeing his frustrated expression, took out her map and folded it to show him. "Look, we're here. Near the southern tip of the lake, where the dam is. From there, the river runs down into the lower dam, the Wivenhoe. There's a couple of places where it's shallow enough to ford on horseback if – and I mean _if_ – the sluice gates aren't open. Otherwise we'll have to go down to the road, which is about another five kilometres, and cross on this bridge, because the airfield is here on the western side of the lake, so we have to get across." Her finger slid across the map. "There's no other bridge."

"We'll still have to cross the road somewhere," Bucky pointed out, looking at the road she pointed out, which curved up the western side of the lake after crossing the river some distance below the dam.

"Yes," she said, "but there's plenty of isolated spots. That bridge, though," she tapped her finger on the map, "if they suspect we came this way, they'll be on that bridge watching for us. And they'd have had the sluice gates opened so we have no choice."

"Well," Bucky said, "then I guess we'll know once we get south of the dam wall, won't we? If the gates are open, then they'll be waiting for us."

"Not necessarily," Diana folded the map and climbed stiffly up into the saddle, barely suppressing a groan. "It's been a wet year. There's plenty of water in the lake and they regularly drain some down into Wivenhoe."

"No sense worrying about it just yet," Bucky decided with a shrug, swinging up easily. He caught the dirty look Diana shot him and grinned, guessing she was resenting him for not being sore. "Sorry."

"You could at least _pretend_ it hurts," she scoffed.

"Ohh," he put a hand to his hip, fake groaning, "I'm so stiff!"

She cracked up laughing, almost falling off her horse. "Christ, Barnes, you sound like you're in a bad porno!"

"A what?" he frowned at her in confusion, only making her laugh harder.

"Oh my God, you've got a lot to catch up on, but I'm not helping you out with that one!"

Bucky found himself laughing too as he followed Diana. _She was quite a dame_, he mused, watching her shapely arse shift in the saddle as she ducked under a low-hanging tree branch. For the first time in a very, _very_ long time, his cock twitched with interest.

_Not now and not her_, he told himself firmly. The time and place couldn't be less appropriate, and Diana was a decent woman who really didn't deserve a fucked-up bastard like him in her life. She did make him laugh, though, more than he ever remembered a dame doing even when he had been Bucky Barnes for real and not just a schizophrenic assassin with Bucky's memories in his head. And she sure was pretty.

It was no hardship to look at her, even tired and grubby after a night sleeping rough, with her long curly chestnut hair stuffed up under an ugly battered hat. Bucky lost himself – that part of himself that wasn't constantly alert for danger – in watching Diana, the way she moved easily with the horse despite her stiffness, the serene calm she seemed almost to radiate. She turned back and smiled at him, beckoning him to bring his horse up alongside her, and he obeyed.

"We might be in luck. Listen."

He listened, looking at her strangely. There was very little to hear: the wind in the trees, birdsong, occasional rustling of animals in the bush. "What am I listening for?"

"It's what I _can't_ hear. I can't hear four massive waterfalls pouring out of the sluice gates." She pointed through the trees, and he realised that they were almost level with the lip of the dam. It was pretty full, the water only about two or three metres below the top of the wall, but Diana was right. At this range they'd be able to hear the water if it was being released.

"We'll have to go on foot for a while, lead the horses. The ground gets really bad," she warned, and Bucky dismounted and followed her unquestioningly.

It was a rough, steep scramble down the eastern side of the valley, and there wasn't much cover for a while. Bucky felt itchy between his shoulder blades, staring up at the dam wall, but there was no one up there, and on the other side of the lake there weren't many vantage points. They weren't exposed for long, and then they were back in the trees, riding alongside the river.

Two small permanent gates were open in the dam, controlling a steady flow along the river, but he could see the four massive ones that Diana had been talking about, and having seen the terrain, realised she had to be right. If HYDRA had even suspected they were coming this way, there would have been snipers atop the dam wall waiting for them and those sluices would have been open to block their way across the river.

"There can't be another tracker in me," he said to Diana as they lost themselves among the trees once more. "This would have been the perfect spot for an ambush. We could cross at that bridge if we need to."

"We don't need to," Diana replied calmly, checking her map again. "The ford's less than a kilometre downstream from here. The river spreads right out in a shallow spot."

"Thank you for getting me out," he said impulsively fifteen minutes later, as the horses splashed their way across the river. Diana shot him an enquiring look. "You've done a lot to help me, and all you really know about me is that I helped kidnap your friend two days ago."

"And then helped her escape. Besides, I don't think that was really _you_ that kidnapped Jen, was it?" Diana said, before realising that she was setting him off on subjects she wasn't supposed to again. _Shit_.

"Sort of. And sort of not." He looked down. "It's hard to explain. When I – when Soldier – is given an order by a handler, it becomes – painful – not to carry it out."

"I'm really not supposed to be talking to you about this stuff," Diana said after they rode on in silence for a few minutes. "I think it's supposed to wait until you get back Stateside to be debriefed."

"If they're gonna try and open more of these doors in my head, I'll pass, thanks," Bucky said bluntly. "I think I can learn to live with what's in my head now. I know there's more – all too much more – but I don't _want_ to know the details."

There wasn't really a lot Diana could say to that. She nodded silently, and then pointed ahead. "We're coming up on the road. It's really quiet, but we'll have to cross about a hundred metres of open ground."

Bucky clearly didn't like being exposed for even the short period of time it took to trot the horses across the open area and across the road, but not a single car came past and they were soon into the trees again.

"All right, how far to the airfield?" he wasn't relaxed by a long shot, but some of the tension had visibly gone out of him once they were under cover.

"It would be a couple of hours, but we're not going straight there." Diana held up a hand when he started to question again. "I want to drop the horses off with a friend who will see that they get back to Aunt Vivi, and we'll get the same friend to give us a lift to the airfield in his truck. It's up on an open plateau and two horse riders up there would be pretty visible. You need to trust me, Bucky, okay? I'm the one with the local knowledge here."

His head hurt. Trust was – not a concept he understood. Orders, he understood just fine. But Diana wasn't _ordering_ him, she was _asking_ him to accept her decisions, and it wasn't easy. The Winter Soldier in him wanted to head on in with the sniper rifle, kill everyone at the airfield and commandeer the fastest plane they could find. But that wasn't exactly a method designed to keep them covert, so he kept silent and followed Diana's lead.

She made him wait alone in the cover of the trees while she took the two horses over to the friend's house, and fifteen minutes later she returned, riding alongside an old guy in a very battered old pickup truck.

"This is Maurice," she introduced the old guy, "Uncle Morrie, this is James."

"Huh," the old guy grunted, squinting at Bucky from under a hat even more battered than the truck. That appeared to be the limit of his conversation, for which Bucky was extremely grateful, and ten minutes later they were being dropped off at a gate.

"Where…" he looked around blankly, and then spotted a windsock hanging from a pole.

"It's a grass runway. There's some small hangars up there," Diana waved to Maurice as he drove away, and then clambered over the gate. "Come on."

They walked through the grassy field. Bucky hated every second of it. He felt open and exposed, there was absolutely no cover. A helicopter gunship could sweep up on them and raze them both in a second. His rifle wasn't even assembled, Diana had made him break it down and put it in his pack, and she had stowed her pistol away too. He was shaking and sweating by the time they got to the small row of hangars.

"Barnes," Diana didn't touch him, but stood at a small distance eyeing him warily. "Are you all right? The third hangar along is where my friend keeps his plane. He has a small apartment in back, so if he's not here we can crash there for a little while. No one's gonna see us." She extended her hand towards him slowly, a little surprised when he clutched at it like a lifeline. "It's all right. Come on." She kept her voice low and soothing, and after a couple of minutes he was able to get his feet moving.

Diana led him to the indicated hangar, counted a sequence of bricks in the side wall and slid out a seemingly-solid brick to produce a key. Bucky raised his eyebrows at her, and she grinned in response.

"I know Tod's not here." She gestured to a seemingly random piece of red thread dangling from the bars of a small window. "He's former Special Forces," when he still looked inquiring. "Was in the troop with my husband and Jen's brother. We've stayed friends. I've often stopped here in my chopper to visit."

It astonished Bucky that he could still feel jealousy, but when they got into the small apartment and he saw that there was only one bed, he wondered just how close _friends_ Diana and this Tod were. She seemed quite at home, checking the fridge and freezer.

"He's not gone for long, there's fresh milk and bread here," she called. "Probably just out on a day flight. He does take tourist parachutists up sometimes."

Bucky had by now thoroughly searched the place. He ended up standing at the kitchen door watching Diana as she pulled out food and started cooking. "Omelettes sound good?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder to see him standing, watching her silently.

He had to think about it. "Yeah. Haven't had an omelette in a long time."

"You'll like mine." She was dicing vegetables and ham, whisking eggs, humming softly as she did so. "For heaven's sake, stop looming and sit down. Want coffee?"

"Yes. Please." He hesitated. "Your friend won't mind this?"

"He's pulled this stunt on me more times than I care to count," she said with a grin, looking over her shoulder at him again as she started the coffeemaker. "He'll be back by nightfall anyway. His plane doesn't have night flight capabilities, so we'll be stuck here until morning."

Bucky really didn't like that idea, she could see it in the way his hands clenched on the edge of the table. The wood squeaked as the metal hand compressed it.

"I trust him, Barnes. My husband trusted him with his life, so did Jen's brother, and he had their back. He's one of the good guys."

He wanted to ask why Tod had left the military, but when the small plane rolled into the hangar late that afternoon and he met the former soldier, he understood at once. Because Tod was missing his left leg below the knee. He had a crude prosthetic on, and was wearing shorts so it was clearly visible.

"IED in Afghanistan," Diana murmured quietly as she saw Bucky staring at Tod's leg. "You've got something in common, huh?"

Tod turned out to be a pleasant, if quiet, guy, especially once he found out Bucky had a prosthetic arm. Bucky was careful not to show off its capabilities, and since he was wearing a long-sleeved shirt only the hand was visible anyway. He told Tod that he lost his arm falling off a train, which was the truth.

Diana led Tod off for a long, quiet conversation. Bucky itched to go after them and listen but realised that they didn't want him to hear, and after a while they came back. Tod gave him a short nod, went into the bedroom and closed the door.

"We can take the plane at first light," Diana came and sat down beside Bucky on the tiny couch. "Tod will get another pilot to fly him down to Amberley AFB and collect my chopper, bring it back here. Then he'll get a commercial flight up to Darwin to pick up his plane."

"Is that where we're headed?"

"Yeah." She smiled at his doubtful look and squinched brow as he tried to remember the geography of this large, bare continent. "Trust me, Barnes. I've been flying helicopters and light aircraft across this wide brown land for quite a few years now. We'll kangaroo-hop between half a dozen small airfields like this one, just like dozens of other bush pilots do every day, and absolutely no one will even notice us. There's a nice big military base at Darwin and I've got friends there too. We can hide out as long as we need to until your buddies can get back with paperwork for you."

"What about you? If HYDRA find out you helped me, they won't leave enough of you to bury," he warned. "You need to get out of the country. Come where I can protect you."

"Your mission isn't to protect me, Soldier," she quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Soldier doesn't give a shit about you. Bucky Barnes does," he stared right back at her.

Surprised, Diana took a moment to process that. And then she smiled. "Bucky, that is really nice of you. I'll make you a deal. If Tod has had no trouble getting my chopper back when we meet him in Darwin, I'm coming back here with him and going back to my normal life. If he thinks there is anything at all suspicious – and he's a very suspicious man by nature – I'll fly out with you guys."

"All right," he acquiesced after a moment, seeing that her eyes were narrowed and her chin firmed. He looked around then. "You should get some rest."

"You too."

He shook his head. "I've had more sleep in the last couple of nights than I'd normally get in a week. I'm good. I feel," he stopped to consider how to describe the unfamiliar emotion. "I feel that I need to do something useful. I've just been following along ever since you and Barton picked me up. I want to go out and patrol the airfield. No one will see me, don't worry."

"I'm more worried about you getting startled by something and hurting someone by accident," Diana said honestly.

That – was probably fair enough. Bucky had no idea what might trigger the Soldier. He frowned, thinking about it. "Give me orders, then."

Diana blinked, one side of her mouth curling up in a crooked grin. "Well, now there's an offer."

Confused, Bucky blinked at her, and she shook her head. "Never mind. All right." She considered for a minute. "Soldier," she said finally. "Patrol the airfield. Remain covert and do not alert anyone to our presence. If armed forces enter the area, avoid engaging if possible and return here to alert me. Complete your patrol and return here before dawn."

"Yes, ma'am," he saluted her, and was gone, slipping out into the night.

Diana curled up to sleep on the couch – not the first time she'd crashed on Tod's couch, and at least this time she had a sleeping bag – but couldn't rest. She lay staring up at the dark ceiling, wondering about Bucky and what would become of him. He was a very broken man, suffering possibly the world's worst case of PTSD combined with induced schizophrenia. The poor guy was probably going to spend most of the rest of his life getting his head read, and that's if the Powers That Be didn't just decide it was all too difficult and lock him up.

Sleep was a long time coming, but in the end Diana drifted off.

Bucky woke her at dawn with a hand on her shoulder. Diana shot upright, alarmed for a moment, and then nodded when he hushed her.

"All quiet. No suspicious movement around the airfield. I heard helicopters during the night on the other side of the lake, though."

"They're looking for you," Diana said grimly. "The sooner we get out of here, the better."

Tod came out a few minutes later and quietly helped Diana prepare the plane for takeoff, filling the fuel tanks and doing pre-flight checks. Bucky prowled, feeling useless again, until Diana asked him to check their weapons. They ate a hasty meal of toast and left, Diana thanking Tod profusely. The former soldier just shook his head gruffly.

"I owe Paul a good deal more than this, Di."

"Thank you anyway. I'll be in touch."

Tod just nodded and headed for another hangar, where a friend was preparing another light plane to go out.

It was another clever bit of subterfuge, Bucky realised. Four planes took off in the space of ten minutes, all heading off in different directions. Diana took them out last, heading due west for a while – the least likely escape route, as she pointed out, since west had them heading into the vast empty interior of the continent.

They flew for four hours before landing at another small airfield and refuelling. Diana had packed sandwiches for lunch, which they shared in the air after taking off again.

"Are you tired?" Bucky asked in the late afternoon, after their second fuel stop. The plane had no autopilot, so Diana was flying manually all the time, and they'd been battling some strong updrafts for the last hour. She was regularly shifting in her seat, obviously uncomfortable, sore from two long days on horseback and now many hours of flying.

"Kinda," she replied through the headset. "Not much longer, though, until we stop for the night. We've made good time."

She'd been speaking on the radio, very rarely, checking in with a few small airfields and ground stations along the way. Talking to other small craft pilots when they saw one in the distance. Bucky couldn't hear the incoming transmissions, could only hear when Diana spoke, but he knew something had happened when she stiffened, her hand coming up to her ear.

"What is it?" he asked impatiently, but she waved him to silence. He waited, pressing the tip of the finger and thumb of his metal hand together in a nervous tic he'd picked up over the years. The sensation was strange, different to how it felt when he made the motion with his real hand.

At length Diana pushed a button and looked across at Bucky. "There was an explosion at Amberley AFB."

"When?" he barked.

"Just a few minutes ago. I didn't ask questions, didn't want to draw attention to us, so I just listened in on the chatter. They're saying a helicopter took off and exploded once it hit five hundred feet." Her voice sounded choked. "No more detail than that, but I think you can guess the rest."

He could indeed. HYDRA had figured out that at least some of their targets had used the chopper to escape, though Bucky could hope they didn't think _he_ was still out there. Remembering the helicopters searching on the other side of the lake last night though, he suspected that was a forlorn hope. But even knowing that their targets had gone, HYDRA had rigged the chopper to blow. A petty revenge, but one that had killed a good man.

"I'm sorry about Tod," Bucky said quietly.

Diana didn't say anything, but he saw her swipe roughly at her eyes. "He deserved better," was all she said.

They landed some forty minutes later on a tiny private airstrip. "Cattle station," Diana said tersely when Bucky asked. "I know the owners slightly. They run a sort of small guesthouse for overnighting pilots. It's not fancy, but it'll do." She was chewing on her thumbnail as they gathered their things and walked towards the small, barnlike structure at one end of the strip.

"Where are we?" Bucky asked eventually. They'd shared dinner with the station owners, a pleasant older couple, and then gone down to the barn which was a sort of bunkhouse. It wasn't fancy, as Diana said, but it was a bed for the night and she, at least, would need to rest.

"Just on the eastern side of the Queensland-Northern Territory border. A long way from any town. Mount Isa's the closest, but it's a good hour from here by road. Gravel track, rather. Roads are few and far between out here."

He'd seen that as they were flying. Huge expanses of apparently trackless wilderness. "So what are you looking worried about?"

Diana chewed harder on her thumbnail. "The plane." Bucky just looked at her, waiting for her to explain. Diana stood up and paced around the room. "HYDRA had to have someone at Amberley to rig the chopper to blow, right?" She didn't wait for Bucky's nod before continuing. "We have to assume that Clint and the others got out all right, since we haven't heard about any other major incidents. They weren't looking for them at Amberley. Only figured out afterwards that they came in on the chopper."

Bucky frowned. "I'm not following."

"Tod would have had to show ID to get on the base to collect the chopper. So if HYDRA had someone at the base, they knew who he was. And the chopper was registered in my name. A cursory search would connect Tod as having been in my husband's regiment; therefore a likely person I'd turn to for help. When HYDRA go looking at his place and find his plane gone, they're going to start looking for the plane. I disabled the transponder before we even took off and I've been changing call signs all day, but if HYDRA have access to satellite data they could probably track us, as we can only fly in daylight hours."

"They have satellite access," Bucky said, worry suddenly coiling in his gut. "Shit. You should have asked Tod to wait a couple of days before going to get the chopper."

"I know." Diana dropped her head. "And I hate myself for thinking this way. Because Tod would still have been killed but at least we'd have gotten away clear."

"We have to leave. Now."

"I told you, I can't fly the plane at night! It's not equipped."

"Not by plane. Too easily tracked. By land. I'm sure our hosts have a vehicle."

Diana thought they should ask. Bucky was adamant that they shouldn't. Plausible deniability, he said. And since their hosts lived so far from anywhere that they'd simply left the keys in their pickup truck, they didn't even _have_ to ask. Not that Diana couldn't have hot-wired it anyway, but she didn't mention that.

Fortunately the truck was kept in an out-building far enough from the main house they wouldn't be heard. Bucky drove, after taking a few minutes to figure out the pickup's gear shift. He hadn't driven a car for a long time, not that he mentioned that to Diana. She was exhausted, moving more stiffly by the minute.

She directed him on the rough gravel tracks, shining her tiny penlight at the map each time they came to a fork – only a couple of times. Bucky had expected them to be on the tracks for an hour before they reached the town she'd mentioned, but it was only twenty minutes or so before he saw headlights crossing in the distance, on what looked like a bigger road.

"There it is," Diana folded the map, clicked off the light and sat back with a sigh. "The Barkly Highway. Head west about two hundred kilometres, then when you get to the Three Ways roadhouse head north for Darwin. It's about another eleven hundred kays from there." She leaned over him to look at the fuel gauge. "Wake me at Three Ways and we'll stop for fuel."

She curled up in the seat, leaned her cheek against the window and was asleep in under a minute. Bucky glanced over at her and shook his head. A lot more tired even than she'd looked, then. Well. Up to him for a while.

He focussed on the highway they were joining. It was paved, at least, but very quiet, only an occasional car or truck moving along it. He pulled out after a big truck heading westbound and pressed his foot on the accelerator.

**OK, so Diana and Bucky are on the road, middle of the night, in the vast empty north of Australia. HYDRA are on their trail, but they should be safe – for now.**

**So let's head off and find out what all our other friends are up to!**


	11. Chapter 9 - It's Good To Go Home

**Chapter 9 – It's Good To Go Home**

None of them felt safe until they were finally in a Stark Industries jet winging its way across the Pacific. Only then did Steve let out a sigh of released tension and turn to see Jen and Clint clinging to each other, her head pressed against his chest as she sobbed, his hand stroking her hair tenderly. Jen hadn't cried throughout the whole ordeal, but finally she felt safe enough to break down.

Steve and Sam shared a glance, and then both turned to face forward, giving the husband and wife what privacy they could. Steve had so many questions he wanted to ask, but they had plenty of time. It was a long flight.

"Oh, darlin'," Clint whispered, trying his best to comfort Jen. Tears pricked at the back of his own eyes at her distress. "Don't cry, my love, everything's going to be all right. I'm here, I'm gonna take care of you now."

"I was so scared," Jen sobbed out. "So frightened I might never see you again."

"Sshh," he pressed gentle kisses across her forehead and cheek. "I'll always come for you, you know that. Always. You were so brave, my beautiful girl. So clever." _Delayed shock_, Clint thought to himself, soothing Jen gently. For all Jen's courage and determination, the only other situation she'd been in where she really had to fight for her life was the Chitauri invasion, and what she'd been through in the last couple of days was far more personal. He held her close, reassuring her – and himself – that they were both going to be fine.

Clint admitted to himself that despite his courage and focus, he'd been frightened he might not get to Jen before Barney and Soldier did any damage. Jen had told him last night that Barney had tried to drug and rape her, and for that alone, Clint vowed to himself, Barney was going to die. How the hell the bastard was _alive_, Clint had no idea. The last time he'd seen Barney he was being dragged away by his criminal cohorts with two of Clint's arrows in his guts. The FBI had notified him of Barney's death a few days later, and given their disgraced agent a very quiet funeral.

He should have asked to see the body, Clint realised, with the benefit of hindsight. Not just taken their word for it. Somewhere, someone had pulled off a huge cover-up. HYDRA agents within the FBI, it had to be. He shook his head wearily. Yet another dirty agency that would have to be cleaned up. Somehow. Without S.H.I.E.L.D.'s resources, how could they even begin to start?

Well, that was a problem to begin tackling tomorrow. Right now, his whole world narrowed to his wife, safe in his arms, back where she belonged. Jen's tears had finally stopped, but she still clung to him, trembling slightly. He kept on stroking her hair, talking in a low, soothing voice, until she finally looked up at him.

"I'm okay now, Hawk."

"Maybe not yet," he thumbed away the wetness beneath her eyes gently. "But you will be soon."

Jen smiled a bit weakly. "I'm gonna go wash my face. And then I'm sure Steve has a million questions."

They hadn't wanted to talk until they were safely on Stark's jet and out over international waters, but Clint knew Steve was practically bursting with questions. He had a fair few more he wanted to ask himself. "All right," he let her go and watched her walk away to the bathroom. "Take your time."

Steve and Sam promptly moved seats and came to sit opposite. "Is Jen all right?" Steve asked anxiously. "She wasn't – hurt, was she?"

"Not beyond a couple of knocks on the head," Clint said. "And I never thought I'd be saying prayers of thanks to Loki, but I am now, because without the enhanced healing and durability he gave us, Jen might not be walking around now."

"Heh," Steve smiled wryly. Sam nodded. Steve had filled him in on Clint and Jen's story on the flight over to Australia; it sounded like something out of a fantasy novel, but then – aliens in New York? The world had seen some pretty weird stuff in the last year.

"Barney planned to rape her, though." Clint tried to keep his voice level. "He gave her a drink which Jen said smelled odd. She managed to pour it out without him seeing."

"Probably Ketamine or Rohypnol, or GHB," Sam said knowledgably. Steve looked confused. "Date-rape drugs. They confuse the mind, make someone compliant. Often women wake up with no memory of the night before."

"That's sick!" Steve looked predictably outraged.

"All too common these days, I'm afraid," Clint nodded at him. "Anyway, when Barney came back a bit later, after waiting for the drug to take effect, Jen managed to surprise him and knock him out. She _also_ managed to convince the Soldier – Bucky – to not only let her escape, but to help her."

"Far out," Sam said admiringly, "resourceful woman, your wife! Every encounter with Barnes so far, he's damn near killed my ass. And that was with Steve doing most of the fighting!"

"I'm gonna need you to fill me in on what's happened," Clint looked from Sam to Steve. "I've only seen a couple of newspaper articles. Did you really smash three helicarriers into the Triskelion?"

"Only one of them actually hit the building," Steve said defensively. "But – kinda, yes."

"And is Fury really dead? Where's Hill?"

"No, and safe in the Tower. Fury's gone to Europe, he wants to sort out some S.H.I.E.L.D. business there. He asked Pepper to take Maria in under Stark's wing; probably the only way to protect her from prosecution. Coulson's the new Director, but he's underground because the organisation's name is mud right now. Clint, the rot went right to the top. Alexander Pierce was HYDRA. So were at least a quarter of the Level 7 and above agents. Sitwell, among others."

"_Sitwell_?" Clint's eyes widened. "Fu-uck. I knew he was a slimy little bastard, but HYDRA – wow."

"As far as we know as of yesterday, Coulson, Maria and Victoria Hand were the only Level 8 or higher agents left alive who definitely aren't HYDRA. Hand took the Hub, with a bit of help from Coulson's team, but decided to abandon it to the military. Last I heard, she was escorting John Garrett to the Fridge."

"_Garrett_!" Clint couldn't believe it. "You're not serious! John Garrett's the most un-Nazi like person I've ever known!"

"I dunno, Clint, I never met him," Steve spread his hands. "The last few days have brought some shocks for all of us. Brock Rumlow was HYDRA as well. Tried to kill me – and Sam. The whole STRIKE team was in on it."

"Oh my God," Clint buried his face in his hands. "I _trained_ with Rumlow. He was a _friend_."

"Sharon Carter says he was the one who launched the Helicarriers."

"_Tell_ me Sharon's on our side!" Clint's head snapped up.

"Yes, she is," Steve said soothingly. "Fury had her keeping an eye on me. Good thing too, she saved my ass a couple of times. She's going to CIA, she'll start digging for HYDRA there."

"Phew. Well, no one better for the job." Clint massaged his temples with his fingers. Jen came back and sat down next to him, curling almost into his lap. "Come on. You'd better tell me the rest."

Steve hesitated for a moment, glancing at Jen. She'd never been S.H.I.E.L.D., but then, neither had Sam, and he trusted the Falcon at his back. In the end he shrugged and told Clint about Project Insight, finding the bunker with Zola's preserved consciousness, how it had all started with the assault on the _Lemuria Star_ and the Winter Soldier almost killing Fury on the streets of Washington D.C.

Clint stopped him occasionally to ask intelligent questions. By the time Steve had finished the grim recitation of the senior agents known to be dead or HYDRA – or both – Clint was rubbing his forehead with his fingers, his eyes closed as though in pain.

"I'm so sorry," Steve said inadequately. He hadn't realised before, but now he thought about it, Clint had been with S.H.I.E.L.D. even longer than Natasha. Considering the archer's brutal childhood, the organisation had probably been the only real family he'd ever known. And now it had imploded, tearing itself apart, revealed to be nothing but a sham, many of the people that Clint had called friends turned out to be traitors to everything Steve _knew_ he believed in.

Sam had asked the question – he'd have been reckless not to, considering who else had turned out to be HYDRA – but Steve had shaken his head at once. "Not Clint. Never," and Natasha had turned such a killing glance on Sam that he'd apologised and promised never to even think it again.

They sat in silence for several minutes, allowing Clint time to process. "All right. Okay. I'll get more information when we get back, I suppose. Natasha?" he looked at Steve.

"Right now, doing damage control, backed up by Hill. She fronted Congress only a couple of hours before you called, and she's been dealing with the press, too," Steve looked somewhat awed. "She came up with the brilliant argument that since HYDRA intended to use Project Insight to rid the world of what it considered 'dangerous individuals' which by their definition included the Avengers, all the more reason why we should be given free rein to stop the bastards."

"That's – difficult to argue against," Clint said after a moment. "Sounds like Tasha logic."

"So that's our story," Sam chipped in then, "can we hear yours now? Because I'm dying to know how the psychotic assassin who nearly killed our asses in D.C. last week is now tame. Well. Kinda tame."

Jen looked at Clint, who nodded, agreeing that she should be the one to talk. "Well," she said, leaning back against Clint comfortably, "it all started yesterday morning – fuck, was it really only yesterday morning? Wow."

Steve and Sam both smiled, and Jen shrugged and carried on, telling them how Clint had left the boat to go buy supplies and she'd been lying on the deck when she'd looked up to see Barney and the Winter Soldier standing over her.

By the end of Jen's tale, Sam was looking at her with a great deal of respect and Steve was actually grinning.

"So wait," Sam said, "let me get this straight. You double-talked a HYDRA commando into ordering the Winter Soldier to protect you, knocked said commando out when he attempted to rape you, and then convinced the Soldier to aid and abet your escape? Fuck me," he looked at Clint rather enviously. "You married one hell of a woman."

"I know," Clint said simply, his arms tight around Jen. "Believe me, I know."

Clint told his part of the story then, from the boat explosion to seeking help and finally contacting Jacques, how Jacques had sent Diana and her helicopter for him.

"I really don't like that we had to leave Bucky and Diana behind," Steve said dismally.

"Diana's extremely resourceful," Jen said firmly. "Believe me. She comes from what you would definitely call the wrong side of the tracks, and she hauled herself up by the bootstraps."

All three men were looking at her quizzically. Jen hesitated and then elaborated. "Diana's mother was the town prostitute, where we grew up. Every boy in school – and not a few of the older men in town – assumed Di would follow in her mum's footsteps."

"Jesus," Clint let out a low whistle. "Guess I'm not the only one with a shady family! What about that property, though, belongs to her aunt? That was a big place, must be worth a lot…"

"Not _her_ aunt. Her husband's. Paul Konrad's family adopted Di as their own when he married her, and they certainly weren't going to let her go after he died. But she won't take their money; she used Paul's military pension to buy her helicopter and start her small business, and she's fiercely independent. Trust me, she'll take care of herself and Bucky, probably better than anyone else you care to name."

Having already witnessed Diana's resourcefulness, Clint had to agree with her assessment. Steve and Sam were still looking troubled, though, so he asked why.

"You didn't see what Barnes did only a week ago," Sam said bluntly. "If you had – well, you'd have serious reservations about leaving him alone with a woman too. He damn near killed me, Natasha _and_ Steve. Pure dumb luck that we're all still alive."

"He's still _Bucky_," Steve said firmly. "Underneath all that brainwashing. I _know_ Bucky Barnes is still in there, and I think maybe he's coming back out."

Clint scowled. "Considering your stories about Bucky and his girls, that might not actually be a good thing for Diana!"

"He'd never touch an unwilling woman," Steve insisted. "Bucky liked to flirt and women adored him, but he'd never push."

They were all silent, looking at Steve, none of them wanting to point out that the man they'd left behind was a very different animal to Steve's childhood friend. Steve's mouth tightened and he turned to look out of the window.

Sam watched Steve for a moment, and then turned back to Jen. "Tell me more about Diana," he encouraged, thinking that it might distract her from thinking about her ordeal. "Forgive me, but the child of the town prostitute – I would think that most parents would very much discourage their daughter from befriending someone like that. Didn't yours?"

Jen outright laughed. "You haven't met my parents. They're all about taking people on their own merits. And even as a child, I was way too strong-willed. Anyone telling me not to hang around with Diana – and there were a fair few so-called 'concerned' adults who did – just made me want to befriend her all the more."

Clint grinned. "I can just see you and Diana as two bratty little tomboys."

"Very perceptive," Jen grinned up at him. "Anyway, Diana's mum was, in a word, useless. She kept a roof over their heads and food on the table, though, and Di wasn't abused so Social Services never had cause to remove her. When she hit puberty, life started getting a bit difficult and she started staying at our place a lot. Dad and Jacques taught her self-defence right along with me. She used to be very nervous around Jacques but thankfully she'd been around so long he looked at her as another sister. Used to get in a lot of fights with boys who talked dirty about her."

"Teenage boys are a horrible species," Sam said sympathetically.

"They certainly are. Things got even worse when Jacques left school and went away to the Army. Di was attacked more than once and we heard stories of men offering her mother a lot of money if they could have Diana instead. She moved out and came to live with us full-time when we were both fifteen. A year later her mother overdosed on heroin."

The men were all silent. Clint held Jen close to him, listening carefully. Thinking that Jen hadn't even told him about this before. Perhaps she'd felt it wasn't her story to tell. But obviously it was part of what had shaped Jen, had made her tough and watchful, wary of men's motives.

"Diana managed to finish high school with reasonable grades and Mum and Dad offered to pay for her to go to college with me, because she had nothing. Her mother left only debts. Di wasn't up for it, though I begged her. She accepted a loan of five hundred bucks and an offer of a mechanic's apprenticeship with a guy Dad knew in Perth. I took her in my car to get there, convinced her to see it as an end-of-school road trip. We stopped to see Jacques at the SAS base on the way. He introduced Di to Paul Konrad and that was that. Love at first sight for both of them." Jen grinned reminiscently. "I can see them now. It was like something out a Disney movie. It was a Regiment dinner, Paul was in his formal uniform, all tall and gorgeous, and he just came over to Diana moving like he was sleepwalking and asked her to dance. Di never made it to that apprenticeship."

"That's very romantic," Steve said softly.

"Yeah, it was. Di thought about joining up but she'd have been posted somewhere else, so in the end she took a job as a civilian mechanic at the SAS base. She and Paul got married a few weeks later, because he was being deployed again and he wanted to make sure she wouldn't be hassled or left penniless if he was killed."

"Was it on that deployment he died?" Clint asked, shocked.

"No! No, that deployment was one where he and Jacques met you," she told Clint. "He came back okay from that one, and they got to spend a few months together. Di was smart, she worked seven days a week while he was away so she was able to accumulate leave to spend with him, and they went travelling. Came to see me in Sydney, travelled around Australia visiting Paul's family. The next time he went away, he didn't come back." Jen hesitated, glanced at Sam, and carried on. "Diana was pregnant. She lost the baby with the stress."

Steve looked as though he was about to cry. Sam gave Jen a neutral face, and she carefully didn't look at him. She was _not_ ready to tell Clint just yet. Not here and not now. "Jacques was sent home, and when he got back, he pretty much picked Diana up out of her hospital bed and took her home to Mum and Dad. She couldn't stay in Coober Pedy long though – still too many people there who knew who her mother was – so she came to stay with me until I graduated. As Paul's widow she did get a decent compensation payout and a military pension, so she decided to buy her own helicopter and started a little business. We've kept in touch but – she's very independent."

Sam blew out his cheeks. "Well. That's quite a story. I begin to see why you said she's very resourceful."

"Excluding Natasha," Jen said, "Diana is far and away the toughest woman I've ever met. Losing Paul and their baby could have broken her, could have been the one last thing that made her decide that the world really was out to get her. But instead she picked herself right back up and made a whole new life for herself."

"Which is even harder to do than most people realise," Clint murmured, sharing a look with Steve. They'd both been in the situation of losing everything they cared about. But then, Diana had still had Jen and her family, Paul Konrad's family too who had refused to let her go. Perhaps they were what had held her together, and he said as much to Jen.

"I hope so. She's still the best friend I've ever had. I can't even begin to imagine how it is that she can still let anyone get close to her, after the shit life's served her up."

"I can," Clint said quietly, and she nestled closer against him. "Diana and I have one thing in common. We've both been saved from our personal demons by Jen Svendson."

Forgetting entirely about Sam and Steve, Jen reached up to kiss him. It was a polite cough, several minutes later, that made them remember they weren't alone.

Steve elbowed Sam. "Don't interrupt. Just look out the window and pretend it isn't happening. You'll have to get used to it, trust me."

Clint chuckled. "We're not _that_ bad."

"Yes," Steve said, "you are."

**Yes. Yes, they really are.**

**What did you think of Diana's background? Bit of a shocker, huh? Explains a few things about the way she reacts with Bucky, too…**


	12. Chapter 10 - Taking The Long Way Home

**Chapter 10 – Taking The Long Way Home**

Bucky had to shake Diana to wake her, once he'd stopped at the roadhouse. She let out a weary grumble before opening her eyes, but snapped to soon enough when she saw where they were.

"Already?" she glanced at the clock on the dash. "Huh. All right. I'll go get some food and we can eat, then we'll fill up the truck before we go."

Bucky frowned. "I can go in."

"Not to be rude, but you stand out too much," Diana said succinctly. "You've got the wrong accent and you're wearing long sleeves and gloves, in the Northern Territory desert. People will notice. What do you want to eat?"

He shrugged. "Don't care."

"O-kay – how about burgers?" Another shrug was her answer, and Diana sighed. "Never mind. Stay here," as it occurred to her to give him orders. "Don't leave the truck, and don't move it, unless we're attacked." She didn't wait for him to acknowledge before her door slammed and she walked off towards the roadhouse. Bucky had parked not in the furthest reaches of the empty lot, but not close to any other vehicle, either. He leaned back in the drivers' seat now and stared out into the night. The sky seemed vast in its blackness; he'd never seen so many stars. There was no light pollution out here, the nearest city hundreds of miles distant.

Bucky couldn't resist getting out of the truck and leaning back on the hood to stare at those spectacular stars. Diana hadn't actually ordered him to stay _in_ the truck, just not to leave it. He was lying back on the hood, gazing up into the night, when she returned.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Diana said.

"Never seen anything like it." He'd heard her approach, of course, but he was a little startled when she levered herself up on the hood beside him and handed him a paper bag.

Diana ate her burger in silence, watching Bucky. He gazed at the stars for a couple more minutes before sitting up and unpacking his food. He finished before she did and scooped his rubbish into the bag, hopping down off the hood to go and dump it in a nearby bin. "So what's the plan now?" he asked, leaning on the hood as Diana finished her own meal.

Diana took a moment to appreciate the pure aesthetic pleasure he presented, dark hair tucked behind his ears, broad shoulders – flesh and metal – surging under his thin shirt. "Nearest decent sized town is Katherine, but it's about eight hours north of here. We need to ditch this car fairly quickly once it's daylight, so my plan is to stop there and find something to steal. By the time it's missed, we'll be in Darwin. Which is big enough to get lost in. I have friends there, but after what happened to Tod…"

"They'll be tracking your contacts by now," Bucky said quietly. "Best to steer clear."

"Exactly." She slid off the hood and took her rubbish to the bin. "So let's fuel up and get on the move."

Bucky stayed her as she moved towards the driver's door. "I'll drive. You're still exhausted. You flew all day today."

Diana hesitated, then nodded. "All right, but we don't want to get pulled over by the police, so drive careful. And remember to drive on the left!"

"I drove all the way here on the left," Bucky said indignantly, before realising to his astonishment that she was _teasing_ him. His mouth fell open with astonishment.

"Come on," she called across to him, her eyes dancing as she climbed in the passenger side, "pull over to the diesel pump!"

Bucky shook his head, climbing back into the truck and turning the key in the ignition. "Aren't you afraid of me?" he had to ask.

"Should I be?" Diana asked quite seriously.

"I hope not," he answered quietly. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Then that's good enough for me." She gave him a tight little smile. "I spent too much of my life afraid of people who actually _did_ want to hurt me. I got past that, and I sure as hell aren't gonna start being afraid of anyone who _doesn't_ have bad intentions."

Bucky wanted to ask questions about that, but they were at the pump and Diana hopped out to put the diesel in the truck. She went back into the roadhouse to pay, and gave him a bottle of water when she came back out.

"I'm gonna get some more sleep. Wake me if you want me to drive."

"Of course," he lied. Well, it wasn't a lie. She'd have had her fill of sleeping long before he tired, anyway.

About four hours later, Bucky admitted to himself that he might possibly have overestimated himself. The problem was that the road was so _boring_. He could see well enough that the terrain surrounding was flat, the road almost completely straight barring the infrequent slight curve, the occasional passing southbound vehicle the only relief for the monotony. Huge, multi-trailered trucks almost like trains passed occasionally, the slipstream from them dragging their smaller vehicle around the road so that he had to fight the wheel.

Diana looked exhausted, though, slumped deeply unconscious against the window, so he concentrated hard and kept going. He did notice the scarcity of fuel stops, though – there only seemed to be one every couple of hundred kilometres – so when he saw the tank drop to a quarter full and there was a sign for a fuel stop in 20 kilometres, he made the decision to stop. Diana woke when he did.

"Hmm?" she said groggily.

"We need fuel. Still probably an hour to go to Katherine."

"'Kay," she stumbled out, pumped fuel, went inside to pay and almost toppled back into the car, clutching two large cups.

"Are you all right?" Bucky asked, concerned.

"I'm not good in the mornings. Especially before dawn," she squinted at him, gave a half-smile, and straightened up in the seat. "Here. Coffee. I got it black – that okay?"

He shrugged and accepted the cup. The drink was hot and bitter, but he felt revived after a few sips. "That's good."

Diana smiled a little triumphantly to herself. Bucky was definitely coming more back to 'normal'. That was the first time he'd expressed a real preference for anything. "Do you want me to drive now?"

"No," he started the engine again. "I'll drive."

They passed signs for an air force base called Tindal, a little way south of Katherine, and Bucky saw Diana hesitate, her head turning to look out the window. "We can't risk it," he warned.

"I know. But it is tempting," she smiled a little wryly. "My neighbour back home, his son is based here. Never mind. Onwards, ever onwards."

Dawn was just breaking by the time they drove into Katherine, and at Diana's direction, Bucky parked the truck on a quiet back street after cruising briefly through town. They left their bags in it for now, and went to find another vehicle to steal. Diana had spotted one left in the supermarket car park overnight, an old Toyota. Bucky found himself gaping when Diana had the door open and the engine running inside a minute.

"Hop in," she looked up at him with a grin, her eyes glinting with mischief. "What?"

"Where did you learn that trick?" he scrambled into the passenger seat.

"The army," Diana drove back to where they'd left the pickup and they transferred their bags to the Toyota's trunk. "No, I wasn't _in_ the army," at his curious look. "But I worked as a civilian mechanic in the motor pool at the SAS base. Basic training for those guys involves how to steal cars, and how to get busted ones up and running with duct tape and elastic bands. I was teaching classes in it by the time I left."

"Huh," Bucky nodded, filing away another interesting tidbit about Diana. She was sparing with information about herself, almost as much as he was, and he couldn't even remember most of his past. "Useful trick."

"Honestly that's the first time I've ever tried it in the real world," ah, so that explained why she was looking so pleased with herself. "My heart's beating so damn fast!"

"Breathe steady," he fell into the familiar cadence of training recruits. "Focus on something mundane and just breathe. You should let me drive."

"You drove all night. Let me have a stint." She peered at the fuel gauge. "We won't make it all the way to Darwin anyway. We're still about three hundred kays out."

They stopped at a little place called Pine Creek, where there was yet another grass runway masquerading as an airport. Diana looked wistful again, but this time shook her head when Bucky asked her if she knew anyone here.

"No. But the light aircraft community is pretty tight-knit."

"Which by now means they all know Tod died in your chopper and people are looking for you," Bucky pointed out. "There might even be a reward for information."

Diana paled. She honestly hadn't thought of that. And she made no objection when she came back from paying for the fuel to find Bucky in the drivers' seat again.

Once they reached Darwin, Diana directed Bucky off the highway into a residential area, and they cruised the streets for a few minutes until she finally spotted a phone box. "Stay in the car," she told him yet again, and he scowled, showing his displeasure with the order. "I just need to find out if they have somewhere for us to go. Or an extraction plan already set up, with any luck."

In the phone box, Diana kept a wary eye on the car as she dialled the number Clint and Steve had made her memorise. They'd insisted she wouldn't need money, but she held some coins in her hand just in case.

"JARVIS speaking," the smooth English voice she'd heard once before said.

"Oh, Mr Jarvis, it's Diana Konrad. Uh, Clint told me to call…"

"Yes, Miss Konrad, thank you, we have been expecting your call. Are you and your companion well?"

"Yes, we're fine. We're in…"

"This is not a secure line, Miss Konrad, please don't say any more. Please hold while I transfer you."

She waited impatiently, tapping her fingers against the receiver, but it was only a few seconds before the line clicked and Jen's voice came on, calm and comfortingly familiar.

"Hello honey. How are you?"

"All right. Tired," Diana said honestly.

"Any unwelcome attention? We heard about Tod. Jacques is devastated."

"It was my fault," Diana said a bit hoarsely.

"Don't you dare start with that. We'll talk when you get here. Extraction is arranged whenever you are ready."

"Really?" Diana was a bit surprised. "Already?"

"I know people who know people," there was a laugh in Jen's voice. "So here's what you're gonna do…"

Bucky blinked at the fishing boats lined up in the small marina. "We're leaving by sea?"

"Apparently," Diana shrugged. "Don't ask me. I'm just following directions. We're looking for a boat called the _Hijinks_."

_Hijinks_ didn't look as though she'd ever been up for any such thing, and neither did her owner, an extremely crusty old salt who just grunted and waved them aboard when Diana gave him the code phrase Jen had recited to her. Bucky gave Diana an even more dubious look when he heard the boat's engine start up with series of shuddering clanks.

"Don't give me that look, it wouldn't be my choice," Diana said, "but I trust Jen."

Bucky's face softened slightly at the mention of her friend's name, and Diana stomped firmly on a small prick of jealousy. Men always got that look around Jen. Her delicate stature seemed to bring out their protective instincts.

They were both somewhat astonished when, once out of sight of the coast, they rendezvoused with a container ship bound for Seoul.

"This is likely to be a long boring voyage, then, if we're on board all the way to South Korea," Diana muttered. "Be close to two weeks, I should think."

Bucky made a disgusted face, and then shrugged. "Well, at least we should have thoroughly disappeared off HYDRA's radar."

"We'll be off everyone's radar by the time we get to Seoul!" Diana jumped to her feet and paced agitatedly, the four steps she was able. They'd been shown to a tiny cabin, two bunk beds, nothing else. Nobody they'd spoken to yet appeared to speak English: the crew was all Korean.

A knock on the door presaged the arrival of the captain, whose English wasn't much better than that of his crew. He managed to convey that they would be on the ship for three days and they needed to stay in their room. His crew would bring food, there was a bathroom directly across the passageway, do _not_ wander around the ship.

"Wow," Diana muttered once the man had gone. "This is gonna be a barrel of laughs."

No TV. Nothing to read. Just a schizophrenic, brainwashed, not-very-ex assassin for company.

Oh yeah. This promised to be the best three days of Diana's life.

NOT.

"All right," Diana threw herself on the lower bunk with a sigh (Bucky had climbed silently to the upper as soon as they entered the tiny cabin and sat cross-legged on the pillow). "I guess I may as well start catching you up with modern culture. So have you seen any movies in the last seventy years?"

"Not that I remember," came the reply.

"Books?"

"I don't think I was ever much of a bookworm."

"News, world events? The moon landing, the Kennedy assassination, other wars – Korea, Vietnam, Iraq, Afghanistan – from any of the various sides…"

"I've been to Afghanistan," he said quietly. "I don't remember much about what I did there. But I remember the place. Mountains, higher than any I've ever seen. Brutal country, and a hard people."

"Huh," Diana mused. "Born more than sixty years apart and you and Paul used the exact same words to describe the place."

"Your husband and I were both soldiers," Bucky offered after a minute. "In a war I daresay he didn't want to be a part of any more than I did."

They were both silent for several long minutes, and then Diana sighed. "All right. This is probably going to put a real strain on my memory – I'll have to see how much of my high school history I remember. Let's start with the end of the war and Hitler's death – and indeed what happened to your buddy Captain America. And since I understand you joined up after Pearl Harbor, I daresay you'll be interested to hear about Hiroshima and Nagasaki."

By the time she'd covered those events, he'd swung down from the top bunk and was sitting on the floor staring at her, listening intently, absorbing every word. He asked a few questions about the nuclear bombs, not understanding how they worked – the Winter Soldier was a precision instrument, not a weapon of mass destruction – and Diana ran through her high school physics classes as well, throwing in what she could remember about the Manhattan Project.

She'd just about finished on the forties and was starting on the 1950's when a crew member turned up with a couple of trays of food and some bottles of water. He smiled uncomprehendingly and nodded politely when Diana tried to thank him.

The food was good and plentiful: some sort of dumplings in broth and meat and vegetables with noodles. Diana couldn't finish half of it, and slid her tray across to Bucky when he finished his quickly.

"You have eaten enough?" he asked warily, glancing from her to the tray. "You need to sustain your strength."

"I've had plenty. I promise."

"All right." He reached for the tray, looked at her hesitantly, and said "Thank you."

"You're welcome." She leaned back against the bunk and sipped her water. "Where was I?"

"The Cold War." Bucky stopped with a spoonful of broth halfway to his mouth.

"Ah yes, and the beginnings of the space race. I'm not going to talk too much about Russian politics and the Cold War," Diana shrugged at him apologetically, "it seems like that was a purpose for you as a weapon, and I don't want to trigger anything. So – um, let's cover Korea. And Vietnam, at least from the Western point of view." She smiled. "And the changing social mores, the advent of television, and the birth of rock n'roll."

Diana drowsed off later in the afternoon. Bucky had left her for a few minutes to go to the bathroom, and when he returned, she had passed out sitting up, her head against the wall. He stood looking down at her for a few minutes, puzzling over her. _Why was she bothering with him?_ She barely knew him. Their only connection was that he had kidnapped and almost brutalised one of her closest friends.

Bucky frowned, remembering what Diana had said about kindness. _Sometimes you have to pay it forward_. He leaned over and gently eased her down onto the bunk, placing her head on the pillow and straightening her legs out. She sighed and turned her face against the palm of his hand – his human hand – and Bucky stilled, looking down at her.

_Soft_. He couldn't remember ever touching anything as soft as Diana's skin. Her bright hair had slipped free from its knot when she discarded her cap earlier, and it curled against his wrist now, the colour of leaves in autumn. He couldn't quite resist stroking his fingers over it, feeling the curls springing back lightly against his fingers. His eyes traced her face, the spray of freckles across her nose, a small scar on her chin he hadn't noticed earlier.

Diana wasn't beautiful in the way Natalia was beautiful, part of Bucky noted clinically. Not that classic, eye-catching beauty. Nor did she have the dainty prettiness of Jen Barton. She had a vibrancy to her, though, a sensation of being in motion even when she was still, that drew the eye. That would always make men take a second look, and a third.

_Striking_, he decided at last. That was the word that described her best. Even in her mannish, practical clothes. His eyes slid downwards. Well. Not _that_ mannish. But how he'd like to see her done up in a pretty dress and dancing shoes, her bright hair swept up to expose her creamy throat…

Diana made a small sound in her sleep and Bucky froze, suddenly realising that he was doing something that was probably very wrong. He was still stroking her hair, staring at her as she slept. Lifting his hand carefully away, he climbed quickly up to the top bunk, about the only place in the cabin where he wouldn't be able to see her, and lay down on his back, staring up at the ceiling, trying to sort through the emotions that had just swamped him.

**Sorry it's been a while, guys. I desperately needed to get **_**Truth In A Bottle**_** finished, and quite honestly I've been stuck on this one for a little while. I've figured out where the plot's going now (and it is a DOOZY) so hang in there, I'm writing like crazy to get ahead of myself again.**

**Next chapter: Jen finally comes clean…**

**And yes, the northern and central part of Australia really is that big and empty. The western part of Queensland, most of Western Australia and the Northern Territory are insanely huge tracts of nothingness. Check out **_**Australia**_** for some fantastic visuals of a barren but achingly beautiful land. (I'm looking at you, Serena. That's another movie for your list). And not coincidentally, Bowen, the little town where Clint and Jen's boat is blown up in Chapter 1, doubles for 1940's Darwin in the movie.**

**(Plus, Hugh Jackman as a jackaroo. Just sayin'.)**


	13. Chapter 11 - You Own A Farm?

**Chapter 11 – You Own A Farm?**

"A farm," Jen said in disbelief. "You own a _farm_?"

"I was gonna tell you!"

"_When_, exactly?"

Clint looked a bit sheepish, studying his hands. In the front of the vehicle carrying them from the airport, he saw Sam's shoulders shaking with laughter as he drove. Steve, in the front passenger seat, was still and inscrutable.

"Look, I did tell you about all the overseas safehouses and boltholes and safety deposit boxes, I was gonna leave the domestic ones until we got back home."

"Hawk, a farm is not a safehouse, it's a…" Jen waved her hands expressively. "It's a _home_."

"His _family_ home, apparently," Sam put in helpfully. "Natasha sent us here after Hydragate, when we weren't sure the Tower was safe. It's the only place big enough for all of us that she was sure was off S.H.I.E.L.D.'s books."

Jen glared even harder at Clint. "Your _family home_. And this will be safe from your psychotic brother why?"

"Because he has no fucking idea I own it. And it's _not_ our family home. It was my _grandmother's_ home." Clint looked out of the window for several long minutes. "It was probably the only place I ever felt safe and happy in the world until I met you," he said softly, too quietly probably for Sam to hear, but he saw Steve's shoulders shift slightly. "I hardly got to spend any time here. But one summer when I was five, I – broke my leg."

Jen read between the lines and knew either his father or his brother had caused the injury. She took Clint's hand in hers and held it silently.

"Mom sent me here. To _her_ mom. She was tryin' to keep me safe. 'Cause I couldn't run away like I normally did." His beautiful purple-and-gold eyes were far away. "Nan wanted to keep me. But Dad came and took me back, the week I was supposed to start school. I never saw her again."

Jen waited, silent.

"She died a couple of years later. Left the farm to Mom, but of course Dad sold it straight away. Took me twenty-three years to get it back. Barney was never here. Knows nothing about it. I bought it under my usual layer of false names and untraceable cash. It's as safe as every other one of my identities." He looked back at Jen. "Tasha was never even here. She knew the address, knew that it might be somewhere to look for me if she ever couldn't find me. I had no idea she'd use it as a backup Tower!"

Steve cleared his throat into the silence that fell following that remark. "You said you were from Iowa, Clint."

"I was. For a while." He stared out of the window again. "We moved around some, y'know." His Midwestern accent had become stronger the moment they landed in Rapid City, South Dakota, and Steve had told him where they planned to go. "But this is where Mom's family came from." He grinned suddenly. "Did you know there's a town not far from here called Black Hawk? I wanted to take that for my circus name but Trick said no. Called me Hawkeye instead."

Jen gave him a narrow-eyed look, accustomed by now to his habit of using humour and sarcasm to deflect attention from his emotions. He gave her wide eyes and squeezed her hand.

"Some things I don't never want to talk about, darlin', not even with you. We all got secrets that need to be kept." He gave her a stare. She looked away.

Clint frowned slightly. Jen was keeping something from him, and he couldn't figure out what it was. A terrible feeling coiled in his gut, that Barney really had raped her before she was able to escape him. He knew his brother's strength, had been its victim too many times. Jen had let him make love to her when they got to the cabin, indeed had clutched at him and _begged_ him to take her – and then she had broken down and cried herself to sleep in his arms afterwards.

If Barney had raped Jen… Clint stared out of the window at the passing scenery, the cold, austere flatlands of South Dakota in winter. He already intended to kill his brother, properly this time. But if Barney had raped Jen, Clint would make him suffer unimaginably first.

Jen moved closer suddenly, laying her head against his shoulder, and he put his arm around her without conscious thought. Whatever secret she was keeping, he'd get it out of her at the farm. They'd be safe there while they waited for Diana's call and planned their next moves. And he'd make damn sure Jen knew that no matter what Barney had done to her, Clint would never love her any less.

"I wish Loki hadn't died," Clint said suddenly, surprising even himself. Steve's head whipped round and he stared at Clint, wide-eyed.

"_What?_"

"I hated his guts and I'll never forgive him for what he tried to do to Jen, but he swore his life to Jen's service," Clint said quietly, pressing his lips to Jen's brow. "One whisper of his name from your lips and he'd have burned the world down to make sure Barney didn't take you."

Jen shook her head and smiled ruefully. "Even if he was alive, I doubt it would have occurred to me to call on him for help," she admitted. "I knew _you'd_ be coming for me." She fiddled with the arrow necklace at her throat. "The moment I woke up and realised I still had this on, I knew." She didn't mention that she'd already been able to _feel_ him coming after her. They hadn't, and never would, discuss that part of their bond with anyone else. It wasn't anyone else's business.

"We're here," Clint said then, as Sam turned into a narrow driveway. They rolled past a number of buildings, and parked in front of a large house.

Jen blinked in surprise. It was a lot bigger than she had expected, and very modern. "This was your grandmother's place?"

"No." He pointed towards a small track that led off into the distance. "Her house is that way. I'll take you there – later. The owners after her built this, and I've added to it some. It's more modern, a better place to run the farm from. Not that I do. I have a manager. I suppose you evicted him?" he asked Steve.

"He's taking a lovely holiday in the Bahamas on Stark's dime."

"Of course." Clint grinned to himself, getting out of the car and holding out his hand to Jen. "Well, here we are, darlin'. My castle."

"Not quite a castle, but very nice, Hawk, I approve," she looked at the handsome house, the well-maintained outbuildings. He led her towards the house, hand clasped in his.

"They are so cute it's sickening," Sam said to Steve, following on behind. He saw Clint glance over his shoulder and grin, and wondered just how good the other man's hearing was.

"I know." Steve spoke a lot more softly than Sam had. "Makes me feel kinda jealous, to be honest."

"You and Natasha have that, though," Sam waved a vague hand.

"Not like _them_. They're special, Sam, there's a bond there that can't be explained. Loki did something to them and I don't think you'll ever meet anyone else quite like them. I think it just about killed Clint when his brother took Jen."

"That guy sounds like a real piece of work." Sam shook his head. "What I don't get is _why_. Why take Jen and leave Clint alive? Barney Barton had to know that was a suicide move."

"It was a trap, obviously," Steve murmured. "The question is, who was it designed to catch?" With the Winter Soldier in the photo with Jen, were HYDRA trying to catch Clint, Steve or both? Had the whole thing been a feint to draw Steve away from the US? Or was Barney Barton acting semi-independently and it was just pure fluke that he'd ended up as Bucky's temporary handler? The entire operation seemed ill-conceived. Steve just couldn't figure it out. And until he was able to question Bucky properly, there were no answers to be found.

Clint still seemed tense and uncomfortable as he showed Jen around the house. Maria was there, working in a room she'd set up as a bedroom-cum-study, obviously happy to see them. She asked Clint for a debriefing as soon as he was ready and he nodded, obviously distracted, and led Jen out.

Finally he led her out of the house completely and they walked together, hand in hand, down the small track he'd pointed out earlier. They were out of sight of the house and farm buildings all together when they came to a smaller, older house.

"This was your grandmother's?" Jen asked quietly as Clint led her up to the door, opening it with a key he retrieved from under a loose stone.

"Yeah." He looked around. The little house was immaculately clean – he paid his manager well to make damn sure it stayed that way. "I refurbished it as best I could, to how it was when Nan was alive."

Jen walked around, seeing the love in the small house, in the carefully-restored furniture. "How long did you spend here with her?" her fingers trailed lightly over the old-fashioned dresser, touched a patterned china dish there.

"Nine weeks. Five of them with my leg in a cast." Clint stood by the window, but to one side, in the shadows, his expression unreadable. He watched Jen steadily, his eyes faintly glowing. "It was the only truly happy time in my life until I met you, darlin'. When Nan said she wanted to keep me, the hope – well, I was only five. When Dad came to take me was the first time I seriously thought I didn't want to live."

"Oh, love," she crossed the room to him in a rush, throwing her arms around him.

"Sometimes," he said quietly into her hair, "the few memories I had of this place were all that kept me going. In the foster home, especially."

Jen only clung to him, devastated at the thought of Clint as a small boy, hurt and frightened, clinging onto the memories of a few precious weeks with his grandmother. She didn't know what to say.

"I haven't told you about her because it hurts too much," Clint murmured. "But seeing you here – you've made new memories for me, Jen. I can finally let Nan go because I don't need to cling to her any more. _You're_ my light in the darkness now."

She was crying, silent tears against his shoulder.

"Tell me. Whatever it is you need to tell me, say it. There's something bothering you, I can tell."

"Oh, Hawk," Jen turned a tear-streaked face up to his. She really didn't think this was the right time – but then, maybe it was, the right time and place, here where perhaps the spirit of his grandmother still lingered.

"It was Barney, wasn't it?" His hand was shaking as he caressed her cheek. "It won't change anything between you and me, darlin', but I need to know…"

"_What_?" Jen blinked, and then followed his train of thought. "Oh my God, _no_! You _haven't_ been thinking that? Clint Barton, you have a really terrible habit of leaping to the worst possible conclusion!"

His mouth opened with surprise as Jen's sharp tongue jabbed at him. "You've been hiding something ever since I got you back, what was I _supposed_ to think?" he said, wounded.

"You were supposed to believe me when I told you I kicked the crap out of him when he tried, because it was the _truth_!" Jen was outraged.

Clint hung his head. "Oh, darlin', I'm sorry. I was just so scared. I thought maybe you felt you couldn't tell me…"

"You idiot." She put her hands to his cheeks. "For a very observant man, it's taken you long enough to notice there's something going on." Her blue-and-silver eyes shone as she smiled up at him. "I've been hiding something from you for _weeks_, not just a couple of days."

Relieved, but utterly confused, he frowned at her in puzzlement. "Darlin', I don't understand. Why would you want to hide something from me?"

"Hawk," she took one of his big hands in hers, caressed it gently and brought it to her stomach, pressing firmly so that he could feel the hardening lump below her navel. "I'm pregnant."

Clint's mouth fell open. His fingers spread instinctively, feeling Jen's stomach, pressing lightly as his hand explored the changed shape there. And now he really looked, he could see changes in her, changes so minute they'd crept up without him noticing, but her breasts were just a little fuller, her cheeks a little rounder. Her eyes sparkled as she smiled lovingly up at him.

"Pregnant," he said, dazed. "A baby. _Our_ baby."

"Our baby," she agreed. "Maybe our timing isn't the best, with everything else happening, but we're going to have a baby, Hawk."

He sank to his knees, pulling her closer, pressing his cheek to her stomach. "Why didn't you _tell_ me?"

"I thought you'd try and wrap me up in cotton wool, and you'd drive me mad. Plus I haven't seen a doctor yet – but I'm sure."

"When? How far are you along?"

"I think I'm almost three months," she admitted a bit sheepishly. "And don't you give me that look, I'm _fine_. I'm _glad_ I didn't tell you. Just think about how much _more_ stressed you'd have been if you'd known I was pregnant!"

That was undeniably true. Clint sighed, and pressed his lips lightly to Jen's stomach through her shirt. "Hello, baby," he whispered, and the love in his voice made Jen's eyes well with tears again. _Bloody pregnancy hormones_. "I'm your daddy, and you've got the best mommy in the whole wide world, and a whole pack of aunts and uncles who are gonna teach you all sorts of crazy skills. I can't wait to meet you."

Jen was absolutely howling by the time he'd finished speaking, and Clint grinned, stood up and pulled her into his arms. "You ever keep something this important from me again, I am going to turn you over my knee and paddle your ass, darlin', and I won't even let you enjoy it. Now let's go and find a doctor to check my baby mama out."

**SO. MUCH. FEELS.**

**Clint does turn into a total cheesy idiot around Jen, but I can't help it. They're just too damn adorable together. And now baby Barton makes three!**


	14. Chapter 12 - Stay Away From Me

**Chapter 12 – Stay Away From Me**

Diana didn't sleep as long as Bucky had expected. He heard her moving around a little later, but stayed on the top bunk, afraid his feelings of guilt would show on his face. He tried to tell himself he hadn't actually done anything wrong, but deep inside him a voice that sounded like his old boyhood friend was saying;

_Show some respect, Buck, she's a lady!_

_Respect_, he told himself firmly. _You owe her that, considering what she's done for you. Be respectful_.

Diana blinked her eyes open, took a moment to process where she was, and looked around. "Bucky?" she said after a minute.

"I'm here," a voice came from above her, and he swung lightly down from the top bunk, gave her a slightly crooked smile. "You feeling better?"

"Mm," she stretched languorously, not thinking about how the movement pushed her breasts against the thin fabric of her top. "Think I just took the opportunity of being able to actually lie flat to sleep!"

_Respect, you jerk!_ Bucky tore his eyes from her breasts with difficulty. It was cool in the cabin, and he could clearly see her nipples through the thin, clinging material. He decided not to mention to Diana that she'd fallen asleep sitting up.

"Where was I?" Diana pushed her fingers through her hair as she sat up, grimacing at the tangles. "Ugh. Wonder if I can get someone to give me a comb?"

"I could try to untangle it for you," Bucky offered, before he thought better of it.

"You?" Diana looked at him surprised.

He smiled wryly. "I had a sister, I'm remembering. Rebecca. Her hair was curly, like yours, only golden. Shirley Temple curls, we called 'em."

"After the actress," Diana smiled slightly.

"Yeah, that's right." He smiled a bit mistily. "I 'member taking her to see _A Little Princess_. Becky was only nine – a lot younger than me." Bucky wondered suddenly if Rebecca was still alive. It was possible, she'd be eighty-four now. He'd have to try and track her down, when he got stateside. Or – maybe not. Seeing her brother come back as he was now would probably shock an eighty-four-year-old lady into her grave.

Guessing fairly accurately at his thoughts as his expression turned grim, Diana tried to distract him. "You can try to untangle my hair if you like. We can ask the crew for a comb when they come back – and maybe a razor for you."

He grinned at that, putting his hand to his chin ruefully. "I guess I look pretty disreputable, huh?"

"You make a very handsome hobo," Diana said cheerfully. She patted the mattress, and when he sat down, twisted to put her back to him.

Bucky hesitated, suddenly realising he'd only made the offer because he wanted a legitimate excuse to touch Diana. _Just her hair, Buck. You can just touch her hair. You're doin' her a favour_. Slowly he took a handful of the chestnut curls, started from the bottom, holding the hair in his metal hand and combing with the other, thinking that would probably be the best way to avoid catching any strands between the shifting plates of his prosthetic.

"Ahhh," Diana sighed happily. "So. Where was I? I'd pretty much finished with the seventies, I think. Did any of what I talked about ring bells in your memory?"

"Not really," he admitted. "From what you said about the Cold War, I think I was probably operating behind the Iron Curtain, when I was awake. So the Western history you've talked about doesn't really apply to me."

"Which isn't necessarily a bad thing, I'm trying to catch you up on things you _don't_ know. Now, the eighties. Hmm. The decade of conspicuous consumption."

_She'd have made a good teacher_, Bucky found himself thinking as he combed the tangles from Diana's long hair with his fingers. Clear and succinct, light enough in tone to occasionally crack a joke, her students would have been riveted. He certainly was.

"And then, oh, I suppose I ought to tell you since you'll be working with his son, Howard Stark was assassinated," Diana said. Bucky had long since finished untangling her hair and they were sitting side by side on the bunk, backs against the wall, shoulders not quite touching.

Bucky stiffened. "Stark?" he said, his tone flat.

"Yes, Tony Stark is Iron Man, he's the leader of the Avengers, well him and your buddy Captain America I suppose. He owns Stark Industries which his father founded – actually Howard worked with the SSR during the war, did you ever meet him?"

"Howard. Stark."

"Yes…" Diana turned her head to look at Bucky and flinched back in alarm. His eyes were wide, the pupils so far expanded that the ring of blue around them was almost vanished.

"Kill. Stark."

"Oh shit!" Diana flung herself away from him, and like any predator, Bucky's eye was caught by the movement. She didn't even get off the bunk before he had her pinned down, his metal hand remorselessly closing on her throat, those terrifyingly black eyes boring into hers.

"Please," she choked out, before he blocked her airway entirely. "_Bucky_…"

_The man had begged, had tried to shield the woman and the boy. Too late for the woman, she'd been killed when he swept her out of the way, her head cracking against the wall with a sickening sound the Soldier recognised as final. The boy sobbed, clinging to his mother's body._

"_It's me you want," Howard Stark had said, unafraid. "Do what you have to do, but please don't touch Anthony." And then his eyes had narrowed, and he'd leaned forward, staring hard at the Soldier._

"_Barnes?"_

_The gun cracked. The boy screamed. Soldier looked at him, blank of emotion, save for a tiny thread of confusion beginning to wind around the edges of his mind._

"_Who is Barnes?" Soldier said, his voice raspy, unused for a long time._

_The boy shook his head, his dead father's head gathered in his lap, tears pouring from his eyes. "I don't know!"_

_The Soldier stared, his gun still outstretched. His orders were to kill the boy too. But…_

_He holstered the gun. "Run."_

"_Wh – what?"_

"_Run. I'll tell them you fled and I couldn't find you, that your father put up enough of a fight to delay me. Run."_

_He knew Barnes. Soldier looked down of the body of the man at his feet. He knew… me. The least I can do is give the boy a chance. Until someone else is sent after him…_

Bucky blinked, the dark, dingy alley disappearing from his sight to be replaced by Diana, ashen-faced, her eyes closed – his hand around her throat.

"No!" he snatched his hand away, saw with horror the black marks already appearing where it had been, used his other hand to feel frantically for a pulse. "_Diana_! My God, what have I done?" There, there was a pulse, she was still alive… he held his hand over her parted lips. _Was she breathing?_ He was crushing her chest, that couldn't help – quickly he scrambled off, rolled her to her side. Yes, she sucked in a slow breath. Bucky collapsed to his knees on the floor, pressed his forehead to the mattress and began to sob.

Bucky wouldn't speak to her. Wouldn't look at her. Her throat felt like the worst case of laryngitis ever, so story time was certainly at an end, and with Bucky's refusal to speak the silence in the cabin was oppressive.

He'd been sobbing weakly into the mattress when she came around with the sore throat from hell, had flinched away from her when she reached to touch him, said only two words;

"I'm sorry," and then retreated into a huddled ball in the corner of the cabin, his long black hair hiding his face.

_Well, that's lesson number one_, Diana thought wryly. _Don't mention anyone who's been assassinated to the Winter Soldier. He might well have done it_. She could read between the lines that he'd probably been the mystery assassin who'd killed Howard and Maria Stark. _Well, that's going to go down like a lead balloon with Stark if he finds out. I'd better warn Bucky not to mention it. When my voice comes back_…

Diana pulled her hair forward to cover her bruised neck when another crew member came by a little later, bringing more food and removing the things left after their lunch. A second man handed her a bundle of cloth – clothes and towels, she realised – and she mimed combing her hair, then pointed at Bucky and made a scraping motion at her cheek to indicate a razor. She got a babble of Korean in return, but the crewman returned a few minutes later with the requested supplies, plus toothbrushes and toothpaste. She smiled gratefully and got a bow and more babble.

Bucky had stayed in his corner, though he ate the food Diana pushed in front of him, he wouldn't look at her. Not until she pushed the tray aside and knelt before him, holding out the disposable plastic razor.

"No, don't give me a weapon!" he reacted at once, looking up at her. Her eyes blazed at him.

"You _are_ a weapon," Diana mouthed, hoping he'd understand. "You don't need this to kill me."

He looked at his metal hand bitterly, looked at the bruises on her throat. "Stay away from me. I'm dangerous."

She only smiled, sadly, and held the razor out again. When he looked at her curiously, she mouthed something he didn't understand. He frowned.

Diana scowled. She couldn't make any sound at all come out of her throat. It was a relief that dinner had been broth and noodles, she'd just about managed to choke it down. Well, most of it. She looked at her dinner tray, grabbed it and picked up a few leftover noodles. Carefully, she formed them into letters.

_PTSD._

He knew what that meant. Had figured that frankly he probably had the worst case of it known to mankind. It wasn't an excuse, though.

He looked at Diana, still holding the razor out with a sad smile on her face. Thought about the fact that her husband had been Special Forces.

"Did your husband ever hurt you?" he hadn't meant to ask such a personal question, but it just spilled out.

"Not on purpose," she mouthed, clearly enough so that he understood. "Nightmares." She pointed at the four letters spelled out in noodles again. Stared at him with such understanding in her eyes that he wanted to weep again.

"Stay away from me. I don't want to hurt you."

Diana sighed, put the razor down in front of Bucky and turned away, collecting a towel and some clothes from the bundle the crewman had left her. She headed for the bathroom, and stood under the thin stream of hot water in the shower with her eyes closed. Reliving old nightmares. Pressing her fingers to the scar on her chin and sucking in deep, calming breaths.

It had been the very first night she spent with Paul. He had only a single bed in his barracks room, but they'd made a little magic there together and she'd fallen asleep on his broad chest.

She'd woken as he flung her across the room, screaming his head off, not even awake. Hit her chin on the sharp metal edge of his desk.

Paul had said exactly the same words as he sobbed, his head in her lap after he'd tenderly treated the cut on her chin. _Stay away from me. I don't want to hurt you._ She hadn't listened. She'd stayed, had learned to get out of the way fast when he started nightmaring, shout his name from across the room until he came back to his senses. Loved him _because_ he was broken, not _despite_ it. Broken just like she was. Perfectly fine on the surface but a fractured, shattered mess underneath. They were just better at hiding it than most people.

_Oh, Diana. You sure know how to pick 'em, don't you?_

Bucky stared at the razor on the floor in front of him. A cheap piece of plastic with a couple of equally cheap pieces of steel moulded into it. Slowly, he reached down and picked it up.

_You are a weapon. You don't need this to kill me._

"No," he whispered. "But if I kill you – I'll need this to kill myself."

**OH MY GOD THE FEELS.**


End file.
